Arcanum
by miss-carlisle
Summary: When a series of unfortunate events and unusual circumstances cause Oscorp agent Janet Carlisle to arrive on the doorstep of the Sanctum Sanctorum, Stephen Strange finds himself face to face with his past love, and Cassie Powell, his recently acquired apprentice, discovers a threat that surpasses any she has yet encountered. Co-written by Madison (Janet) and Hannah (Cassie).
1. Chapter 1

A blustering wind caught hold of his jacket as he approached the front door. Dull and yellow, a porch light glared down at him, glinting off his watch as he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a set of keys. Doctor Holden Radcliffe could not resist casting a wary glance over his shoulder—it was an old habit now. His suspicions proved unfounded, however, for he saw nothing but the dark, secluded street and its sparsely placed street lamps behind him. With a sigh, he turned back, twisted the key in the lock, and the door swung inward.

Radcliffe crossed the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room beyond. A single lamp had been left on in the far corner, and silver moonlight filtered through the sliding glass doors that led to the back patio. To his right was a living area with a round table encircled by chairs, a black leather couch facing a flat-screen television that was fixed to the wall, and a large chest of drawers. To his left was an open kitchen with white granite countertops, dark cabinets, and stainless steel appliances, all of which appeared to be brand new. Neither were there any signs of wear in the furniture, for they were little used. Guests were a rare occurrence, and he did not spend much of his time in this section of the house.

The door closed behind him, and then there was silence. Radcliffe stood in the entryway for a long moment, pondering the day's events. The crisis in Los Angeles had been averted, but not without cost. The Rider was gone. Stuffing his keys back inside his jacket, he shut his eyes and massaged his aching forehead. Still, Director Mace had decided not to dismantle Aida after her act of sacrificial heroism during the mission.

Lowering his hand, Radcliffe allowed himself a small smile. He moved eagerly through the living room and down a narrow hallway. As he entered the open door on his left and came into the lab, however, he stopped short. His smile faltered, and a painful jolt shot through his chest. Instead of finding his research on Life-Model Decoys confiscated, as he had expected, Radcliffe's gaze swept over the half-filled boxes lining the nearest countertop. He swallowed, his eyes shifting down to the spotless white floor, where the body of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was sprawled facedown on the tile.

Immediately, he went and knelt at the side of fallen man, taking up his wrist and checking for a pulse. There was none. Radcliffe respectfully lowered the cold hand to back to the floor and scanned the pristine tiles. There was not a drop of blood to be seen. With a forceful exhale, he rose and moved to a nearby translucent door. Despite not seeing a familiar silhouette standing behind it, he pulled it open and found himself staring into an empty alcove with cords dangling from the wall.

His stomach flipped, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He turned around and stormed out of the lab, calling her name as he searched every corner of the silent house.

"Aida! Aida!"

No answer.

Finally, he gave up and returned to the lab, running the fingers of both hands through his hair as his eyes darted wildly about. The book. Where was the book? Frantically, desperately, he rummaged through boxes and cabinets, tossing aside years of precious research to find that one thing—that single, priceless artifact that could destroy them all.

"No, no, no…" he muttered, his heart sinking until it could sink no lower.

The thought crossed Radcliffe's mind that someone had broken in, taken Aida and the book, but there was a strange twisting in his gut. His instincts told him otherwise. She had not been the same ever since she had read that blasted thing. The Darkhold—unfathomable to the human mind—capable, it seemed, of corrupting not only flesh, but also machine. She had left. Of this, he was certain. And she had taken the book with her.

"Oh, Aida," he murmured, "what have you done?"


	2. Chapter 2

Fingers trailing the cold concrete, a shiver running down her spine. Her eyes were scrunched up in concentration, and she hardly felt the cool hand resting on her shoulder.

"Focus."

With a frustrated sigh, she stood, throwing her hands down.

"Cassie-"

"I can't do it."

Cassie's streaky blonde hair fell over her eyes, and she gave a frustrated sigh. The man in front of her stood, approaching her calmly.

"What's wrong? I know you can do this. I've seen your skill."

"I-I don't know, okay? I just-I just don't know."

He placed his strong, calloused hands upon her shoulders. Her gaze traveled over his scars, and a nervous flutter came over her eyes.

"Cassie?"

"Yes?" Her eyes traveled to his, which regarded her with a slight weariness.

"Lets take a break."

He released her and, with a calming breath, she turned her back on him. Her converse scuffed over the tile, and she shoved her hands into her jean shorts' pockets.

"I can't...I just-I just can't," she muttered quietly to herself.

Sinking into a plush black couch, she stared at her own hands. Simple, smooth, unworked. Nothing like Strange's. She wouldn't have even believed they were capable of magic unless she'd seen it with her own eyes. She stared around the room, it's high ceilings and dim light. There were only a few windows, high near the roof. This allowed the little light that came in to be scattered in patches across the room. Warm air drifted in from around the corner, and Cassie desired to be anywhere but this damp hall. With a deep breath, she closed her steel blue eyes and clenched her fists. Every thought in her brain was running a million miles an hour, but she struggled to condense them.

Unbeknownst to her, Cassie's mentor watched her with a mixture of worry and pride. She was too young for this, he thought. She was so much less experienced in life.

With softer steps, he approached her. Sliding next to her, he watched her face. The tension in her face was almost comical as she tried to force the magic to happen. His hands slid around her gently as he placed them on top of and around her own small ones. Her eyes opened in surprise, and she gazed up at Strange with an embarrassed smile. Strange knew she was always calmer around him. In fact, she had helped his temper as well.

"You have to relax," he murmured in her ear.

She complied, leaning her head against his chest and slowing her breathing. Cassie tried to listen as Strange whispered instructions in her ear. He was trying to calm her frustration, and she appreciated the effort. They desired to avoid another accident. As he gently squeezed her hands, she let the tension go and focused on his words.

"Don't focus on anything else," he was saying, "just on what you want to happen."

"Strange, I don't think-"

"Don't think at all," he urged. "Just focus."

Seconds passed, her eyes closed, his arms surrounding her.

"I can't..."

His arms fell limp, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, angrily pulling away and walking swiftly down the hall.

Turning the corner, she opened the door and stepped into the city street. Anger was pulsing through her veins. Why couldn't she get it?! What was wrong with her?! Strange learned so quickly...

Her feet shuffled past others', away from that place. With tightly curled fists and heavy breathing, Cassie didn't realize how angry she was growing. Her shuffling had turned to shoving. Anyone in her way was shoved to the side by her fists, and angry yelling by pedestrians had ensued. Her fist collided with a man's side, and he tumbled to the street, cursing her as he picked himself out of a puddle. Rising to his feet, he chased after her, giving a quick shove to her shoulder.

"What's your problem, lady?"

She turned, eyes narrowed, and took a step closer to his face. "Go away," she muttered, feeling her anger rising as he smirked at her.

"Psycho," he murmured, turning to go, his clothes dripping with the street sludge.

Her breathing quickened, and she struggled to control her rage.

"Stop it," she scolded herself. "Don't let it happen again."

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. All of a sudden, someone knocked her to the ground from behind, and as she hit the concrete with a smack, a scream of anger erupted from her throat. She jumped to her feet to see the man trying to apologize. Suddenly, an explosion seemed to shake the ground, and high-pitched screams echoed around the city block. Cassie covered her arms over her head as smoke filled her vision. There was noise everywhere-it blocked out everything. A sharp rock hit her across the face, and she fell to her knees, trying to cower under the explosion.

Minutes passed. The noise didn't die out, but the smoke dispersed. She lifted her head hesitantly and glanced around. The nearest building was partially collapsed; the street was covered in crashed cars and bodies. People lay all around her, and there were screams and crying. Blood covered the sidewalk in patches, and her once white t-shirt was red. A sob rose in her throat, and she fell forward onto her hands and knees, tears streaking her cheeks. She was choking on her own sobs, pain searing her gut.

"I didn't mean to," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to."

Strange heard the explosion, and there was no hesitation as he ran from the building, skidding into the street. His face fell in shock-the damage she'd caused was more than he'd expected. He knew where she must be-a building was still slowly crumbling. As he ran quickly towards the scene, his heart filled with fear. That could have been too much for her-she could have killed someone. His heart lurched, and Strange was forced to stop. The building was going to collapse, and there were still people inside.

Cassie lay curled in a ball crying, her eyes red from tears. There was nothing she could do now. A grating noise filled her ears, and Cassie clenched her fists, stuffing them over her ears, closing her eyes tight.

When she opened again, the building above her was standing again, and people were pouring out. Standing not far off was Doctor Strange, and he was helping the many people she'd injured. The pain in her gut was too overwhelming-she couldn't walk over to him. She would have to wait. He needed to help all of these people first.

Red and blue lights began flashing all down the street before long. She lay waiting, tears still streaking her face, guilt overcoming her. The pounding of her own beating heart had begun to drown out all noise. That is, until she felt the hand on her shoulder, the yelling voice above her.

"Ma'am?! Ma'am?"

Eyes flickering open, she stared up into an officer's face. He was blond, with concerned blue eyes. He was kneeling beside her, his hand on the concrete. She rolled over onto her back and stared up at him with silent tears.

"Is anyone dead?" she whispered.

His brow furrowed, and he grimaced, refusing to answer her question. The blond tried to help her sit, but the pain was overwhelming, and she cried out, falling back to the pavement. Strange had disappeared, and with no other options, she tried to focus on the officer's questions.

"Are you hurt?" he inquired.

Weakly, she nodded.

"Where?" His eyes roved over her body, looking for a source of pain. He lifted her shirt, pressing his fingers against her ribs and abdomen, assuming that's where the blood on her t-shirt was originating from.

"Inside..." she whispered.

Suddenly, the man lifted his head and gazed at someone approaching.

"She's mine."

Cassie heard Strange's voice. Relief overcame her, and she waited to see his blue-gray eyes. He kneeled, lifting her in his arms, refusing to make eye contact. Curling against his chest, Cassie wasn't even sure what else he said to the officer. She was listening to the steady beating of his heart-it was soothing. The pounding in her head and pain in her gut was causing a quiet moaning.

Strange stared down at her face, screwed up in pain. He could see the wet tear tracks on her cheeks and could tell the ordeal had been too much for her body. His disappointment was great-she had failed to control her anger, and the toll was high. Yet relief had filled him when he saw her awake, talking to an officer. She was okay-alive.

He carried her back across New York to the Sanctum. As he walked up the steps, he saw her eyes flickering open and closed.

"Stay with me," he murmured.

Striding swiftly down the hall, he pushed open a door with his foot and laid her gently upon his bed. With a gentle hand, he pushed her blonde hair from her forehead and leaned forward, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Cassie?"

She heard Strange's voice, and her eyes opened reluctantly. She moaned and tried to sit, wrapping her arms around his neck. Strange stiffened, surprised, but had no hesitation in pulling her closer, allowing her to rest against him.

"Cassie, do you know what happened?"

She pulled away, shock filling her eyes again. Her lip trembled, and she glanced away, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes. "I-I didn't mean to...I didn't want to...I-I-" He reached forward, turning her face towards his own.

"I know."

She fell forward, sobbing into the sheets, trembling wracking her body.

"Strange, will they take me away?" she choked out.

"No. They have no way of knowing that was you. But, Cassie...you caused a lot of damage. You hurt a lot of people."

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "That can never happen again."

She could hear the anger in his voice, the presumption. To her, it was apparent what he was thinking: She should have been able to control her feelings, and her power. And, of course, he was right. This wasn't the first time it had happened, either, but never before had she hurt anyone.

"I must go survey the rest of the damage. Just-stay here," he ordered with a displeased sigh.

She nodded weakly and crushed the sheets tight in her fist, content to never leave the Sanctum again.


	3. Chapter 3

The bus rolled to a stop, its tired brakes squealing in protest. This was her stop. Jaw tightening, Janet Carlisle stood and made her way to the end of the narrow aisle, where the doors stood open and the driver cast a weary glance in her direction. He did not bother to exchange pleasantries, and neither did she. Without a word, she descended the stairs and stepped out into the cool night air.

Darkness met her like an old friend, and she slipped soundlessly into its shadowy embrace. A gentle breeze caressed her pale, angular face, her piercing gaze sweeping over the simple shops and local businesses that lined both sides of the street. They were small, run-down, and altogether unimpressive. This little community, located on the outskirts of Los Angeles, was moderately quiet at present, but Janet had been informed that there were gangs operating in the area. This fact did not concern her, however—she was not here for them. As long as they stayed out of her way, there would be no trouble.

Convenience stores, auto shops, and fast food chains soon gave way to rows of houses that were situated fairly close to one another, and Janet scanned the numbers on each mailbox as she passed. They rose higher and higher, and she counted them with increasing anticipation—almost there. A car rumbled by, temporarily masking the sound of her heels rhythmically striking the concrete. She shoved her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her black leather jacket, slowing her pace as she came within sight of her destination. This was it.

The fingers of her left hand closed instinctively around her concealed pistol, and she took a slow, deep breath. Her strides lengthened again, carrying her forward with grim purpose. The blackness seemed to deepen around her, and the nearest streetlight flickered. Janet approached the house, her gaze lingering on the warm glow that was filtering through its closed curtains. Somebody was home.

Reaching up with her right hand, she slid her fingers under the collar of her jacket and activated a sensor on the suit that she wore beneath it. Instantly, there were several light clicks as tiny plates of armor folded upwards from the neck of her uniform, encasing her entire face and head in a chrome helmet, whose smooth black surface glinted in the moonlight. As the last of the pieces moved into place to create a uniform exterior, Janet threw up the hood of her jacket and approached the front door. She didn't know what to expect, didn't know if the inhabitants would put up a fight. All she knew was that they might be in possession of information that could prove invaluable to her and the man she worked for.

She regretted that a more clandestine approach could not be taken. There was no doubt that, as soon as the door was opened, whether by force or not, whoever was inside that house would view her as an enemy. Of course, she could not blame them for that, given her rather intimidating appearance, but it could not be helped. If her face was seen, her life, the life of the man she worked for, and the company he had worked so hard to build would all be in jeopardy. Worse than that, the life of her brother, too, would be in danger of collapse.

Steeling herself, Janet knocked. There was a long pause. Her breath caught, every muscle tensed. One hand was at her side, balled into a fist, and the other was in her pocket, clamped around the gun. Seconds ticked by slowly, reluctantly.

There was a quiet click. Finally, the door swung inward. Janet blinked, finding herself gazing down a dark hallway. Then her eyes drifted down, and she saw a boy in a wheelchair. He had jet black hair, brown eyes that observed her with suspicion, and he appeared to be in his late teens. She recognized his face from the files.

"Gabriel Reyes," she noted in a low voice that was slightly muffled by her mask.

"It's Gabe," he responded quietly, fingering the gun that lay in his lap.

Janet glanced around the quiet house, the black eyes of her helmet penetrating the darkness, calculating distances, perceiving objects, and searching for any signs of life. But there was no one—no one but the boy.

"If you're looking for Robbie, he isn't here," said Gabe, his voice rising in volume and increasing in force.

She leveled a cold look at him that he could not see. "Then I guess you'll have to do."

His eyes widened, and he raised the gun, but she was already moving. Shoving his outstretched arm toward the ceiling, Janet twisted it until a pained cry escaped his lips and the gun clattered uselessly to the floor. She stepped back, releasing him, and picked it up, examining its make. Amidst all of the vividly purple numbers and descriptions appearing in her field of vision, there was one word that stood out from all of them: S.H.I.E.L.D.

For a moment, she became very still. Then, with startling precision, Janet's free hand shot behind her and slammed the door. Gabe was silent, watching her with frightened eyes. Slowly, she raised her head.

"You work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

He shook his head quickly. "No!"

She advanced, and he rolled backwards. "Your uncle was recently broken out of prison by none other than S.H.I.E.L.D., you are in possession of a weapon that could only be acquired from one of their members, and you expect me to believe you?"

Gabe suddenly stopped retreating, and his mouth hardened into a thin, determined line. "I'm not telling you anything."

His voice was soft but lined with a grim understanding that something unpleasant was likely to follow. Janet could not help but be impressed by his bravery, though it was incredibly foolish. She sighed and canted her head, regarding him with dark resignation.

"So be it. Looks like we're doing this the hard way."

She reached for her belt, upon which hung several small compartments containing items designed to inflict pain and suffering upon their desired target. However, before she could select or withdraw a single one, a deep, menacing voice growled behind her.

"I wouldn't touch him if I were you."

Janet stiffened and then turned, facing the tall silhouette that loomed in the reopened doorway. Her grip on the I.C.E.R. pistol tightened, her eyes narrowing as she aimed it at the intruder's chest. "Who are you?"

Embers ignited his gaze, burning straight to her core and scalding her insides with terror. "I am vengeance."

He stepped into the entryway, faint traces of light falling across his features, which were contorted with rage.

"Robbie?" murmured Gabe in disbelief.

Janet recognized his jacket from the security footage, the white upside down horseshoe set against black leather. In that moment, she realized who he was—who he really was—and she was not going to let him take another step. She pulled the trigger, a blue flash penetrating the darkness as the I.C.E.R. fired.

Robbie hardly flinched. He recoiled ever so slightly from the impact of the bullet but did not seem to feel the pain. Or perhaps he had simply become accustomed to it. Gritting his teeth, Robbie stormed toward her, fists clenched at his sides. She fired a second time, then a third, but neither succeeded in impeding his advance.

He reached for the gun, but she dropped it to her side, surprising him with a right hook. Her gloved knuckles collided with his face, but he retaliated quickly, seizing her shoulders and slamming her back against the nearest wall. Gabe rolled out of the way as Janet drove her knee into Robbie's gut. He maintained his grip, his hand sliding down her left arm until it reached her wrist. Then he twisted it backwards until she yelped, the pistol tumbling from her grasp.

Desperately, she drove the heel of her boot into his knee, and he grimaced, his hold loosening. Janet drew upon the anger and frustration flaring inside her, letting it fill her up until she felt as if she might burst. The lights in the house flickered, stuttering several times before going out completely. This was her chance. As Robbie prepared to strike her again, Janet vanished into the blackness enveloping them.

Shadows draped around her shoulders like a cloak, whisking her through open air. Her feet did not touch the ground, and for a brief moment, she became darkness. She slipped under his arm and reappeared behind him. Then, extending both arms, Janet ushered forth a wave of black energy, magic that moved with the sound of screams echoing across a vast distance. Voices reaching across galaxies—across dimensions.

Robbie was propelled face-first into the wall, and it partially collapsed, chunks of plaster crumbling around him. She did not move, watching him intently to see if he had finally decided to give up. But then, slowly, he began to shift, emerging from the pile of debris. He was growling like a caged animal—an animal that was on the verge of being released. She took a step back.

His flesh was disintegrating, burning away to reveal the flaming skull beneath. He stood, and when he faced her, he was a very real, very present specter of death. His eyes had turned to ash, leaving empty sockets in their wake. Deep within these sockets dwelt a glow so penetrating, so convicting, that it compelled Janet to take another step backward. She was gazing into the depths of hell. There was fire and misery and punishment without end.

A shudder ran through her, and she remained there, petrified, as he advanced. He was not Robbie, not any longer. Her instincts screamed for her to move, but her limbs felt like lead. The numbers inside her AR helmet were rapidly counting down as he closed the remaining distance between them. The Ghost reached out with a gloved hand, and her gaze fixed on his extending fingers.

The instant before they closed around her throat, Janet finally called herself into action. She thrust both arms in front of her, sending another wave of umbrakinetic energy against him. He was forced backwards, his own hand retracting. Mournful howls filled the air, reverberating across time and space as they sought to crush him. But the Ghost finally succeeded in planting his feet firmly against the onslaught, and then he struck.

Without warning, he backhanded her across the face, and the force of the blow was beyond anything Janet had ever experienced before. She found herself flying through open air, and a second later, she hit the floor. When her head struck the hardwood, there was a blinding flash of white that left her dazed and immobile. She moaned, trying the blink the spots out of her eyes. Her helmet had cracked upon impact, but it was still functioning.

He was coming for her. She could hear his footsteps despite the ringing in her ears. She could not beat him, not here. She knew that now. There was only one thing left for her to do.

Staggering to her feet, she turned and ran, sprinting down the hall and toward the back door. She could see just as well in the dark as when the lights were on, a benefit of her powers that she had discovered some time ago. Shoving the door open, Janet raced outside, drawing the night in around her as she amplified her own internal darkness. It moved beneath her, lifting her off her feet and sweeping under her arms like wings. As she ascended, she looked down and saw him watching her go, that demon that had come to make her pay for her sins, of which there were many.

Turning away, Janet became one with the night sky, appearing as nothing but a black cloud as she left the little neighborhood far behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Cassie's feet hit the cool tile floor as she crawled from her bed. Messy blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders, curls splayed and pushed into odd patterns. The right side of her face was red from where she had had it pressed into a pillow, and her eyes drooped from lack of sleep. A wide yawn left her lips, and she stumbled forward, sniffing. Pulling her clothes off, Cassie turned on the shower and quickly woke from the blast of cold water. With shaking fingers, she turned the knob to hot and showered quickly, fully awake now.

She sat on the floor, cross legged, her bare toes curling and uncurling. She pushed a strand of curly blonde hair behind her ear and closed her eyes.

Inhale...exhale.

She could feel her mind relaxing, opening up to the possibilities.

A scream hit her ears. Cassie crumpled to the ground, her hands pressed tightly over her ears, blocking the hideous screeching. A yell of pain-dust filling her nose. Gasping for breath-breath that wouldn't come. There was a wracking pain consuming her, causing never-ending screams.

A cool cloth on her forehead. Cassie's eyes opened as she woke from the flashback. Strange knelt over her, his hand grasping her own. At the sight of his beaten down expression, she pushed herself up, sitting on her knees. His fingers would not release her own.

"H-how many?" she whispered tensely.

"Four."

The sound of his voice caused a blow to her chest, all air leaving her lungs. A lump formed in the back of her throat, and Cassie struggled to swallow it back, her lip trembling.

"If-if you can't learn to control this..." his voice trailed off, and she raised her eyes to his, "I'll be forced to turn you in. To someone who can control you."

There was a hardness in his eyes that she hadn't seen before, a sharpness to his words. Cassie watched as he released his grip, standing and stalking purposefully down the hall. A steadying breath brought her to her senses. Control...

This was not her fault.

Breathe...

She hadn't asked for these abilities.

Relax...

She had only wanted to study in Hong Kong.

Her fist hit the tile, and she bit her lips as blood pooled beneath her knuckles. Cassie took a shuddery breath and struggled to her feet, moving quickly after Stephen.

"Stop!" she cried in a shaky voice.

He turned, cloak swooshing behind him. Her eyes were narrowed, as his were.

"You know I'm not like this by choice. As you are. And if you merely stalk away," she swallowed, "insisting I deal with it on my own, then you know things will get worse."

"You should control your temper," he spat.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. But you know you have to help me."

His eyes surveyed her, falling to the blood dripping from her hand. "What did you do?"

"I dealt with the anger," she spat back at him. Her fists were shaking at her sides.

As Strange watched, his anger subsided, and he approached, placing his hand upon her shoulder. "Don't harm yourself."

"Then how...do you suppose..." her voice dripped with frustration, "I deal?"

His eyes held her own. "I once heard of a man with similar anger problems as your own."

"What do you want from me? That I join a support group?"

"You could talk to him. It could be beneficial. But until you learn to release your energy in a more positive-"

"I was trying," she whispered.

His gaze softened. "Back there? A moment ago?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "I had a flashback...to-to..."

"The accident?"

"Yes."

He pulled her into his embrace, and she held tightly to him, her tears wetting his shirt. He held her closely. Her body trembled against his. His hand was buried in her blonde hair as guilt washed over him.

"You know I will never forgive myself for-"

"I know. It wasn't your fault," she nodded, her voice muffled against him.

"I'm doing the best I can to help you."

She pulled away, and his eyes watched her huff in frustration. When she wasn't angry, Cassie just looked young. Her blonde hair framed her face, and her baby blue eyes were always full of regret.

"Would you talk to him?" he asked again, holding her hand.

She nodded reluctantly and pulled away, walking quickly down the hall, trying to wipe away her tears. For someone who claimed they would never cry in front of other people, Cassie had surprised Strange twice in the last few hours.

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?!" Strange's anger filled the room. "I need him on the phone. Now."

Cassie waited with her back to the wall, listening silently to the exchange.

"You mean to tell me...there's no one who can help my girl?"

Her heart thudded against her chest.

"We've tried that. And no-that's none of your business. What I do-" Strange's voice was cut off abruptly, and he sighed heavily. "I cannot make that promise. Will that really be necessary? No, she can go alone. All right. Thank you, Stark."


	5. Chapter 5

Grimacing, Janet clasped her hands in front of her as she stood at the center of the rapidly ascending elevator. Her body was bruised, and her temples throbbed, but her physical discomfort was the least of her worries. She had failed. She had not learned why Elias Morrow was freed or what had really caused the abnormal quakes in Los Angeles. The only useful bits of information she had gained were the confirmation that the Reyes' were working in collaboration with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the identity of the Ghost Rider.

He had nearly finished her. Janet shut her eyes, her breath catching somewhere inside her chest. He had nearly dragged her down into an inescapable abyss, and she would have deserved it. No, the other part of her objected, you are doing what is necessary. You are working for the greater good. She opened her eyes and released the breath she had been holding, reminding herself that they were playing the long game. It was not always easy, but it was right.

The doors parted soundlessly, and Janet straightened her posture before exiting the elevator. Before her stood a wall of narrow, rectangular windows that were twenty feet in height. Intersected by black linear frames, their glass panes captured a dazzling view of New York City. Fluorescent lights from the nearest tower cast a cyan glow over the dark room, and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the maze of smaller, square-shaped lights pouring through the windows.

On the far side of the room, directly in front of the windows, was a desk, and behind it was a chair. A man sat in it, silhouetted against the wall of lights like a silent master as he looked out over the monumental metropolis. He remained that way as Janet approached him, still and sculpturesque in his aspect. She stopped when she came within several feet of the desk, clasping her hands behind her back and taking a breath.

"Norman."

The chair swiveled, and she was greeted with a winning smile.

"Janet! I'm glad to see that you have returned from your assignment unharmed. Tell me, what have you learned?"

He leaned forward, elbows propped eagerly on his desk, and she swallowed. "The Reyes brothers have formed some sort of alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D., but I don't know the extent of it. My questioning of the younger one was…interrupted."

His pale eyes narrowed with focused interest as she continued.

"His older brother showed up, and I was taken by surprise. He is no ordinary man. I was no match for him in close quarters."

"Who is he?" inquired Norman. "Where did he acquire such power?"

Janet blinked, a chill running up her spine even as she spoke. "He's the Ghost Rider."

Norman leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing thoughtfully over his chin. "That's why he was at the prison. He was freeing his uncle. But why is S.H.I.E.L.D. interested in Elias Morrow? That is the crucial piece of information we need. His files have been sealed, which means there's something in them that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't want us to find."

"I'm sorry," she said, guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. "I failed you. It won't happen again."

"The failure of one plan doesn't mean that another one won't succeed," he answered calmly, beginning to shuffle through the papers stacked neatly on his desk. "I considered arranging a meeting with the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. but decided that it would be far too obvious a play. No, I have a much better idea."

Withdrawing a folded up newspaper, he slid it across the polished surface, and she lowered her gaze to the headline on the front page.

"WIZARDS IN MANHATTAN?"

Just below the dramatically printed text was a large photograph of two men standing over a broken body. There was glass scattered along the sidewalk, and a small crowd stood gathered around them, bystanders whose expressions were a varied mixture of dismay, shock, and awe. One of the men was dark and robed in green, but the other was pale, with black hair, blue robes, and a red cloak. Though his appearance had drastically changed since the last time she had seen him, his identity was unmistakable.

The mere sight of him made Janet feel like she had been punched in the stomach. Her lips parted, and her feet were rooted to the floor. Her eyes were glued to the page, despite the fact that she had not read a single word of the article.

"Stephen Strange," said Norman, observing her keenly as he leaned forward onto his desk. "He resurfaced months ago, while you were away on an assignment, in fact. It appears that, after his financial ruin and subsequent disappearance, he has discovered a new purpose—one that involves magic."

Janet stared at him, struggling to comprehend what she had just seen and heard.

"He was just seen again while you were on your way to Los Angeles," Norman went on, settling back and folding his arms over his chest. "A building collapsed, and he swooped in to save the day. That made the evening news, and now every media network in the country is desperate for an interview, but he seems to be keeping a low profile."

Swallowing, she finally met his gaze. "What do you want me to do?"

"There has to be a connection between S.H.I.E.L.D., Morrow, and what's happened to Strange," he replied, allowing some of his frustration to seep through. "I want you to find it. You were once very close to him, were you not?"

"Well, yes, but…that was a long time ago," she stammered.

"Please, Janet," he implored, leaning toward her, "do it for me. We need this information to stop S.H.I.E.L.D. and shut down their work with the Inhumans. Director Mace is turning them into pawns, making them nothing more than tools of his misguided will." Norman paused, his brow furrowing with empathy. "You're Inhuman. Surely you are concerned about this."

Her eyes flashed to meet his. Her heart was thumping wildly, and she suddenly felt weak in the knees. "Okay," she agreed at last, despite her misgivings. "I'll do it."

Satisfied, Norman grinned. "Thank you, Janet. There is no one better suited to this task than you. Your invaluable contributions will be instrumental in healing this plagued nation."

Gratefully, Janet inclined her head. "Thank you, Norman. Without the opportunities you have given me, I would not be who I am today. I will not fail you, not this time, and I will find out what is causing these disturbances."

"I'm counting on it," he smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Cassie walked down the street, her blonde hair falling to her shoulders, her eyes cast down, afraid of being seen. She had seen the papers-she knew there was no one to suspect her. Strange had always kept her well-hidden from the media, and yet, fear ran through her whenever she was alone. Perhaps she deserved it. Perhaps she was nothing better than a criminal.

Four people. Four people had died because of her.

Cassie bit her lip, anxious to stop any more tears from welling up in her eyes. She pushed through the crowd, to a building she knew well. Silently, she opened the door, moving up a small set of stairs.

"Cassie!"

She turned, her eyes meeting two hazel ones. "Hi, Peter."

He smiled at her, his camera bag over his shoulder and a stack of books in his hands.

"What all do you have there?"

"Um..." He cast his eyes down, shifting slightly. "Just some...personal reading."

Cassie pressed her lips into a tight smile and nodded understandingly. He was a bright and promising student, only in the tenth grade, but already, he had the hearts of more than a couple of girls in his class. Though he was, of course, oblivious. Far from popular, however, Peter often hung by himself. Or with his best friend.

"How was you weekend?" Peter questioned with a smile.

"Fine..." she lied.

Her expression changed drastically, unbeknownst to her. Peter shifted the books in his arms and studied her face.

"Well, you'd better get to class," she finished, turning and continuing down the hallway.

Cassie ran a hand through her blonde hair, straightened today. She remembered tenth grade. Still so full of dreams. That was the summer she had gone to Rome with her Latin class. That was when her love for travel had grown.

Cassie's teeth pressed down on her tongue so hard she could taste blood. Moving towards the office, Cassie pushed open the glass door and approached the desk.

"Well hello, Miss Powell."

"Good morning," she replied to the woman at the desk.

Mrs. Carlisle was older, gray hair pinned up from her neck. Her voice was sharp and to the point. Every Wednesday, Cassie came to pick up her check from the office. She didn't mind; she was always here anyway. If she wasn't teaching history to the 6th graders at the middle school, she was here, supervising some of the more talented students when they stayed after hours. Sometimes, this included Peter.

Mrs. Carlisle handed her the envelope, and Cassie grasped it gratefully, sliding it into her purse as she left the office. It was 7:45. She only had thirty minutes before her first period began. Her heart was thudding anxiously in her chest. Strange wanted her to meet with Stark today after her classes.

"Very good, Jackson."

She smiled at the small red-headed kid who sat in the third row, a relieved grin spreading across his face as he realized he had answered correctly.

A knock came from her door, and a wave of terror passed through her. With a heavy swallow, her eyes shifted to the window of the door. Confusion spread through her as she moved to open it.

"Mr. Stark?"

He smiled brilliantly at her before pushing open her door. A couple of female teachers hovered in the hallway behind him, nervous smiles on their faces, and a few students seemed to have slipped from their classes, gazing admiringly at Tony Stark.

"I thought-" she stammered.

"Whoa, that's Iron Man!" Juliet shouted, jumping to her feet.

Stark moved to the front of the class and grinned at the children.

"Hello, class," he spoke. His voice was polished and professional, though his eyes were full of humor. "I was wondering if I might borrow your teacher."

"Heck yeah!" one of the boys shouted.

"What are you going to do?" a little girl asked.

"Can we come?" at least three voices chimed in together.

Cassie regained her composure and turned to her class. "We still have twenty minutes left of class, guys. I have to finish covering Thomas Jefferson. Mr. Stark...you're welcome to wait here, or in the teachers' lounge. I'll be done in twenty."

Stark's expression faltered for a moment before he grinned again. "I'll just take a seat and let you teach."

He winked at the class, who giggled profusely, as did the two teachers still hanging at her door. Stark sat in her chair and gazed expectantly at her as she held an expo marker in her hand, thoroughly thrown off.

"So..." he prompted.

"Right," she cleared her throat, "all right, class, let's finish this unit."

Cassie walked through the school beside Stark, feeling inadequate next to his appearance. He wore a sharp black suit and a deep blue tie, his shoes worth more than her whole outfit. Not to mention, he was quite handsome.

"Why don't we head back to my place," he nodded, "so there will be a little less attention."

Cassie glanced about at the children's faces staring at Tony in awe. "Sure..."

"You are the one Doctor Strange is worried about, right?"

"Let's wait to discuss things."

They moved through the hall towards the front entrance, and Cassie slowed, surprised to see Peter standing next to the door. He leaned against the white wall, his black t-shirt stark against it. His eyes were focused on Tony expectantly, and Cassie glanced at Stark. She could tell he had seen Peter too, so Cassie moved forward towards Peter. It was no wonder to her that Peter wanted to meet Stark. She had heard him talk admiringly of the billionaire before.

"Mr. Stark, could you hold on a minute...?"

Tony turned, his eyes on Peter, who shrugged slightly.

"Mr. Stark, this is one of the students at the high school: Peter Parker. He's very bright, and I'm sure he wanted to meet you."

Stark cleared his throat, extending his hand toward Peter with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm here to speak to Miss Powell, you see."

Peter nodded understandingly and shook Stark's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The two released grips, and Stark led the way from the building, Cassie following. She shot a smile back at Peter, who leaned against the wall, watching them with an amused smile.

"I'm sorry, Cassie, it's just a precaution."

She hated the thought. She hated the feel of the material in her fingers. It would be black-dark. Stark leaned down and tied the blindfold around her eyes, and she gripped the sides of the seat. The car started, and Cassie's breathing quickened. Shapes, colors, bright flashes of light. She couldn't see anything-the light was too bright. Suddenly, she was moving, spinning faster and faster through the empty space. Strange and unfamiliar objects swirled around her head, hitting her from every angle, causing blood to drip down her skin. Screams began erupting in her ears, drowning out her own. Cassie tried to remind herself it was all in her head-it wasn't real. The colors, shapes, light, and screams-they weren't real. Her fingers gripped the sides of her seat tighter as she struggled to hold onto reality.

"We're here."

Stark's voice cut into her visions, and she desperately pulled the blindfold from her face. Sweat dripped from her forehead, and Cassie struggled to slow her breathing.

"Scared of the dark?" he chuckled.

"No...that's not it."

Cassie was just thankful that was as far as they had to go. She knew that if she'd been stuck under that blindfold too much longer, things would have gotten worse. She opened the door and gazed around. She was in the middle of a clearing, trees surrounding a low complex-the Avengers complex. Cassie knew well enough, however, that the Avengers were no longer exactly the Avengers.

Stark joined her at her side and smiled. "Lets go inside and talk."


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning dawned cold and gray, and Janet rose early. Leaving her bedroom, she made her way into the living area, where soft light filtered in through two large windows on the far side of the room. Beyond the single, vertical pane of the right window, the Empire State Building rose out of the mist like a ghostly spire. It reminded her of many early mornings when she would look up and see, through the windshield of her car, Oscorp looming out of the shadows and rising above all of the inferior structures surrounding it. It shone in the darkness like an emerald tower, a place where the limits of science and human capability endured constant questioning and relentless testing.

But today was different. She would not be going to Oscorp. Instead, as she prepared an omelet and brewed her daily cup of coffee, Janet's mind was racing. The last time she had spoken to Strange was over ten years ago, and that conversation had not ended pleasantly. How did Norman suppose that she would be able to extract any information, especially delicate information, from him now?

This would be a long game indeed, one that her employer expected her to play with precision. Maintaining a safe distance while establishing an illusion of trust would be essential.

When the last bites of her breakfast had been consumed, Janet returned to her bedroom, her black silken robe swishing about her legs. As she entered, she became aware of her cellphone vibrating on the nightstand. In two swift strides, she snatched it up to her ear.

"Yes?"

"Morning, sis," said a smooth voice. "I couldn't help but notice that you didn't show up to work this morning." The voice paused, and Janet's jaw tightened. "So, you're really going through with this?"

"I have no choice," she responded through gritted teeth.

"Oh, dear sister…we always have a choice."

She shifted restlessly, her free hand clenching into a fist. "Look, Jack, Norman gave me this assignment. This is the only way to get the information we need to bring down S.H.I.E.L.D."

"There are other ways."

"Yes," she admitted with an exasperated sigh, "ways that would put our entire operation at risk. You're too reckless, Jack, always have been."

"No, I'm direct."

She put her hand on her hip. "Look, don't do anything stupid. I've got this. Let me handle it."

Silence.

"Jack?" she pressed.

"Careful, sis," he said finally, his voice low and wary. "You know what happened last time."

Her throat suddenly constricted, and Janet ended the call. Tossing her phone onto the nearby mattress, she dressed and prepared to leave.

It was just past eight in the morning when she slid into the black Mercedes that waited outside her apartment building on West 17th. She recognized the driver—Max was his name. She was in no mood for conversation, however, and did not make eye contact as he started up the engine.

"You know where to go," she said quietly, glaring darkly at the windshield.

Nodding, Max pulled the car away from the curb, and Janet sank deep into her own thoughts. She abandoned all awareness of her surroundings, playing out every conceivable scenario and calculating her responses to each one. So withdrawn was she that when the car rolled to a stop outside a multi-floored townhouse ten minutes later, Max had to say her name twice to get her attention.

Apologizing briskly, Janet rejected his offer to open her door and climbed out of the car. A fierce wind was blowing, heralding the onset of winter, and she shivered, wrapping her long gray coat more tightly around herself as she approached the uniquely constructed residence. Mounting a small set of stairs, she came to a pair of tall, narrow doors with tinted panes that betrayed the darkness within. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest in an effort to ward off the cold, and Janet eyed the doorbell with nothing short of dread.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, she cast a desperate glance over her shoulder, but the black Mercedes was nowhere to be seen. There was no turning back now.

Before her fears could paralyze her completely, Janet's fingers shot out and mashed the old bronze button. Then she waited for what felt like an eternity, her legs turning to jelly, her heart feeling like it was going to pound right out of her chest. Get a grip, Janet, she scolded herself angrily. It's been thirteen years. Thirteen!

Her thoughts momentarily drifted to how incredibly old that made her feel, but then she became increasingly aware of the fact that she was standing on someone's doorstep, muttering to herself like a fool. With increased urgency, she pressed the button again, shifting her weight anxiously from one foot to the other. Just two days prior, she had been standing on another doorstep, and even though she had been very aware that her life was in danger that night, she had been far less terrified then than she was now.

The handle turned, and Janet looked up, glimpsing a dark silhouette behind the glass just before the door on the right swung inward. Her hands were clasped in front of her, gripping each other so tightly that she was nearly cutting off the circulation in her fingers. She caught her breath, all thought of releasing it vanishing when she saw him standing there.

He had aged, but not poorly. He was just as tall and striking as he had always been, but he was wearing those peculiar blue robes she had seen in the photo.

"Janet?" he said, stunned.

"Stephen," she replied, holding his gaze.

His brow was furrowed in confusion, lips parted in shock. He appeared to be at a loss for words, and she swiftly retreated to her place of comfort. Her walls of defense were raised, and she unclasped her hands, sliding them into the pockets of her coat.

"I'm surprised that you remember me," she added coolly.

"It's…been a long time," he stammered, still gripping the door with one hand. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry," Janet smirked, "I haven't come to exact my revenge. This is a business call."

His hand slid down the doorframe, and he frowned. "What sort of business?"

She glanced around at the traffic and the passersby, indicating her reluctance. "I'd rather not discuss it here."

"Right," he said quickly, realizing his mistake, "of course. Come in."

Stepping back and opening the door wider, Strange permitted her entry. As she stepped into the dark hall that lay beyond, she blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. A moment later, however, her night vision was triggered, and she could suddenly see just as well as she could in the morning sunlight.

"I don't have guests often," he explained, closing the door behind her. "Not since the accident, anyway."

At the mention of his near-fatal car wreck, which had occurred almost a year ago, Janet's gaze instinctively shifted to his hands, where multiple scars ran down the backs of both of them and extended to the tips of his fingers. She wondered how many surgeries he had endured in hopes of repairing them. His work was his life, and his hands were what gave him the ability to do that work. How he functioned without it now, she did not know. Perhaps his newfound magical abilities had cured him somehow.

Strange brought her into the large, open space that was adjoined to the entry hall, and Janet raised her eyes to the arched ceiling that towered high above her head. Centered on the far side of the room was a wide, sweeping staircase that led to the second floor, and all of it was carved from deep brown mahogany.

"Wow," she breathed, "it's—"

"Bigger than it looks from the outside?" he finished, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," she agreed with a slight smile.

Many doors lined the perimeter of the room, and it was through one of these doors that he guided her. Janet then found herself standing in a cozy little space with two chairs and several bookshelves that were filled to the brim, as well as additional odds and ends that were piled on desks or squeezed onto the shelves.

"Have a seat," said Strange, motioning with his hand.

He sank into the Victorian chair that sat in front of the twin windows, and she lowered herself into the brown leather seat across from it.

"So," he began, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees, "how can I be of assistance?"

"Not so fast." Her gaze was cold and hard. "What we are about to discuss is an event that is highly classified and is a politically volatile situation. I need to know that I can trust you."

"Me?" Strange responded incredulously, pointing to himself. "You show up out of the blue after thirteen years with delusions of grandeur—"

"Delusions of—?" Anger swelled inside her chest. "Look at you! Did you step out of some corny fairytale? You're shooting magic out of your hands and flying around with the most overly dramatic cape I've ever seen—"

"Hey," he interrupted sharply, "the Cloak is off limits."

Janet shut her eyes, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. When she opened them again, she spoke calmly but firmly. "My point is that I have a right to ask questions."

"You're right," he admitted, nodding. "You do, but so do I."

She settled back in her chair, observing him expectantly. "All right, what are you proposing?"

"I will tell you all about what happened to me," he paused emphatically, "if you agree to tell me who you're working for and why you're here."

"Deal."

She folded her arms over her chest as Strange leaned back and steepled his fingers beneath his chin, deep in thought. He seemed to be pondering where to begin, and she realized that this was going to be a very long, very elaborate tale indeed.


	8. Chapter 8

Her fingers trailed the counter, glancing at all the things Tony had displayed. Most of them she didn't recognize or understand. Gently, she picked up a contraption that looked slightly like a spinning top and held it in her hand. The device was surprisingly heavy. There was a line of buttons on the side, and Cassie hesitated, her curiosity gnawing. Common sense got the better of her, and she released the toy and pushed it back on the counter.

As she released it, her eyes flashed to a digital frame. It was pushed against the wall, barley visible, but it piqued her curiosity none the less. Pulling it into view, Cassie glanced at the smiling faces. In the picture stood Tony, leaning over an outdoor balcony, his arm around a pretty woman with strawberry blonde hair. He looked relaxed and carefree, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. At the edge of the picture was a blond man smiling at Tony and the woman. His hair was cut shorter, and his navy blue t-shirt pressed against his muscles. His eyes had found the camera, and his smile was shy, but cute nonetheless.

There were other pictures around the room, but none had this man in them. Cassie thought he looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. Sliding the picture back against the wall, she wondered vaguely if Tony would mind if she asked him about it.

"Snooping?"

Cassie turned, wide-eyed, to see a tall man against the wall. A blush suddenly filled her cheeks, and as she bit the inside of her cheek, Cassie shook her head. Though he frowned, his expression stern, she could tell the man was amused. He was much taller than her, his skin dark and handsome.

"I'm Rhodes."

"Cassie."

"You don't seem like someone who would have anger problems."

"I-I-"

"You just seem shy."

"I'm not shy. You just caught me off guard," she protested.

Rhodes smirked and indicated she should sit.

"Where did Tony go?"

"Eh, he'll be back. He went to get a friend. You're lucky she's here."

"She?"

"Mhm..."

Rhodes sat on the edge of Tony's desk, observing her curiously. She felt like a child waiting in the principal's office.

"So you did this?" He pointed to the screens on the opposite wall, where the footage of her accident was displayed, paused.

With a cringe, she nodded, refusing to make eye contact. Cassie had noticed it when Tony first led her in, but had done anything to keep herself from looking. Anything to try to forget it.

"Hm."

The sound caught her attention, and Cassie brought her eyes up to his. "What?"

"How?" he questioned, head cocked.

"Well...um...I..."

"That's okay. You can just explain it when Tony and Natasha get back, okay?"

"Sure." Cassie clasped her hands tightly in her lap, knuckles white.

"Want a drink or something to eat?"

Hesitating a moment, Cassie realized she'd skipped breakfast that morning and lunch. Finally, she nodded.

"Come on."

She stood, following him from the room. As they left the door, Cassie observed everything curiously. Though the complex seemed empty currently, she could see examples of activity everywhere. There was a room to her right, visible through the glass wall, that housed a bunch of different mats and padded walls. To her left was a longer hallway, glass windows high above them. Everything was bright and clean-welcoming.

"Hey hey!" A loud voice echoed through the room, and Cassie whipped her head about for the source.

"Don't mind that. It's just a team member," Rhodes smiled at her.

"Oh."

Suddenly, she heard a yell from behind her, and a body dropped to the ground by her side. A sharp, quick scream left her throat before Cassie quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. Recovering from her shock, however, Cassie now saw who it was. Spider-Man. He wore his traditional red and blue suit and crouched low to the ground, having just fallen next to her.

"Hi," he spoke, voice muffled slightly.

"Hi..."

"Spidey, this is Cassie. A guest for the day."

He stood, and she realized he was only barely taller than her.

"Nice to meet you."

He stuck out his hand, and Cassie hesitated, staring at the glove.

"Will it stick?" she wondered.

"What? Your hand?" He laughed lightly. "Nah."

Nodding, she grasped his in hers.

"Well, good to see you, Cassie. I gotta go..."

He extended his forearm, and a web shot from his arm, propelling him forward.

Rhodes grinned at her awe. "He's a cool guy."

"Yeah...seems like it. He sounded so young," Cassie nodded, slightly dazed. "I always thought he would be...older."

"Well, come on. Let's get some food."

She sat at a white counter, enjoying the sandwich Rhodes had made. It was no ordinary sandwich-no, this sandwich was gourmet.

"This is really good," she mumbled in between bites.

"Well thank you," he grinned.

His phone started buzzing, and Rhodes shrugged, pulling it out of his pocket.

"Hey, Stank. Yeah. In the kitchen. Okay sure. Yup. Got it."

"That was Tony?" Cassie questioned as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

"Yep. He'll be here in a second."

Tony entered the room right as Cassie was finishing her sandwich.

"Don't call me Stank!" he yelled as soon as he came in.

Rhodes laughed loudly and shook his head. "You know I will!"

Tony rolled his eyes and approached Cassie, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Recovered a little?" he asked gently.

Confusion pulled across her face, and she hesitated, thinking he was talking about the pain she'd received after the accident. Strange had helped ease it tremendously, but she was still sore, and still had frequent headaches.

"Oh." She realized he meant her problem with the blindfold. "Yeah..."

For the first time, Cassie noticed the woman standing behind him. She had shoulder-length red hair, and she wore a black t-shirt, tucked into black jeans, with a military green jacket over it. Her eyes were calculating, but Cassie felt as though she was a kind person. Her general demeanor was not demanding so much as clever.

"Hi, I'm Natasha." She stepped forward, extending her hand.

"Cassie," she returned with a smile.

"Let's go talk, okay?" Tony prompted.

Cassie stood, Rhodes falling in behind her. Natasha led the way, Tony at her side.

"So, um..." Cassie started, suddenly feeling nervous.

"You want to know what we're gonna do, huh?" Tony turned his head, smirking at her.

She nodded.

"Well, we thought we'd talk to you first. Figure some things out. Then, after that...we'd like to see what you can do." "Lost her, Stark," Natasha murmured, seeing the ashen look upon Cassie's face.

Tony turned, and his gaze softened as he approached her slowly. "It's not going to be anything strenuous. We won't hurt you."

"I can't..." she murmured.

"We really need-"

"No, I can't!" she repeated, more firmly. She glanced about furiously, as though looking for a way to escape. "I didn't know that was going to be a part of-I didn't realize-I didn't know-"

"Whoa, calm down," Rhodes soothed, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Cassie's breaths were coming quickly now, uncontrollably. She could hardly catch her breath, and her eyes darted about wildly, taking nothing in.

"It'll be easy," Natasha tried to assure her.

"Hush," Tony commanded, placing a hand gently on the side of her face, forcing her to look him in the eye.

She did so, her breaths slowing-choppily-as she tried to focus on him. She didn't feel Rhodes gripping her hands, and she barely heard Tony trying to calm her down. Suddenly, she gasped, sinking to her knees as pain coursed through her gut. There was a trembling in the floor beneath her, and all three of them fell hard to the ground.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. All three stared at her, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry...I just can't," she explained again, sitting and hugging her knees to her chest.

"That's all we really needed," Tony murmured, an edge to his voice.

Hastily, she tried to wipe away a tear, but Rhodes caught her hand, helping her to her feet. The tear dripped off the edge of her nose, and she sniffed, refusing to let any more emotion out.

"What was that?" An unfamiliar voice rounded the corner.

Shock overcame Cassie, forcing her to forget her fear. There was a man-no, he wasn't exactly a man-standing-no, floating-in front of her. He was quite unlike anything she'd previously seen, and it shocked and intrigued her. He had a red face with the features of a man, but his body was covered in a green suit, which adorned half his head. A cape was attached to his shoulders, fluttering gently around him.

"It was nothing," Tony explained. "We just needed Cassie to show us how her emotion problem worked, and she did."

Her eyes suddenly snapped over to Tony, and he met her gaze.

"This is Vision, Cassie."

"Nice to meet you," Vision murmured, nodding his head in her direction.

"Yeah, you too."

"Cassie, it's not just anger, is it?" Tony inquired.

"No...sometimes it's fear. Mostly though...anger. And with what just happened...there was anger. Because I didn't want to do that." Her voice was soft, quiet, and reluctant.

"We just needed to know how it worked," Tony explained.

Cassie gazed at them all individually, silent for a moment before nodding.

"Let's go talk."

"Bruce was not a fiery person when he could help it," Natasha explained as they walked, Vision following behind them.

"Yeah, he was a geek," Tony laughed.

"You talk about him in the past tense..." she wondered aloud, watching as they all shared a glance.

"He's not with us currently," Tony nodded. "Let's get back on topic."

"When he did, however, unintentionally or intentionally turn into the Hulk, he needed someone to help him calm down."

Cassie nodded understandingly at Natasha.

"I normally helped him. We had a routine."

"The routine was very important. It led to faster calming down and more control for Bruce. Every time it was the same-the repetition helped."

"We think you should have someone who can help you do the same."

Cassie fidgeted uncomfortably as they arrived back at Tony's office.

"Can Strange help you with that?" Tony inquired.

"I guess."

"Are you two...involved?" Natasha murmured.

Cassie gazed at her silently for a moment before snickering. "No! Are you kidding? There's over a ten-year age gap."

"Well, you seem close. Which reminds me," Tony caught her glance, "we have a current arrangement with Doctor Strange."

She narrowed her eyebrows. "Which is?"

"We won't currently require any action to be taken to restrain you."

Her jaw fell open as she gazed upon him. "Restrain me?!"

"Calm down, Cassie." Rhodes placed a hand on her shoulder, seeing the angry expression she directed towards Tony.

"RESTRAIN ME?!"

Vision moved forward in her direction slowly.

"You killed people," Tony glared.

Suddenly, the words died in her mouth, and she gazed absently at her shoes.

"We will not take any measures if you can learn to control this. And if we can rely on you in times of need."

Lifting her eyes, Cassie shrugged slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we don't have the manpower we used to," Rhodes explained, "and I'm sure there will be times where we can use your help."

"I'll talk to Strange about it," she mumbled, emotionless.

"You understand what we're offering?" Natasha pressed.

"I said I'll talk to Stephen!" she spat.

"How about I give you a ride home, Cassie. You think about our offer." Tony placed a hand on her back, guiding her from the doorway.

"Talk to Doctor Strange about a routine to help when you get angry," Natasha called after them.


	9. Chapter 9

"So that's it," said Strange, leaning back with a self-satisfied smile. "That's the story of how I reversed time and saved Earth from an inter-dimensional demon lord."

Janet stared at him in stunned silence. Despite her own inexplicable abilities involving magic, she was still struggling to believe his outlandish tale. She sat with her left elbow propped on one arm of the chair, fingers pressed against her temple. Her brow furrowed as she endeavored to comprehend the magnitude of his words. "You…reversed time?"

"Yep," he replied casually, his eyes flickering with amusement.

"And you defeated this…Dormammu…simply by annoying him?"

Strange raised an eyebrow. "Are you really that surprised?"

"I guess not," she decided, straightening. "In fact, that might be the most believable thing you've told me."

"You asked," he shrugged. Pausing, he shifted his gaze to the doorway behind her. "Now I live here with—with a cranky old cloak and far too much time on my hands, though there has been a recent increase in magic-related incidents."

The sudden shift in his face and tone alerted Janet to the fact that there was something he was not telling her. She did not care to press him about it now, however, for he had finally brought up the very subject she wished to discuss.

"That's why I'm here," she said, leaning forward. "My employer has assigned me the task of finding out what was really behind those earthquakes in Los Angeles. All we know is that S.H.I.E.L.D. was on site at the time, and they played hero when it was over. But I have good reason to believe that they were involved in causing the quakes themselves."

"But S.H.I.E.L.D. was dismantled," he countered. "They never recovered from the H.Y.D.R.A. coup."

"They've been reinstated as a classified agency of the United States government just like before."

"Look," Strange waved a hand, "I'm not really a fan of wading into political conspiracies."

"Hear me out," she persisted. "Recently, S.H.I.E.L.D. illegally invaded a prison and removed one of its occupants. They've since blacked out all information regarding this prisoner. All we have is a name: Elias Morrow. His nephew? Roberto Reyes, also known as the Ghost Rider."

"How do you know all of this?" His brow was furrowed with suspicion, but Janet's gaze was rigid.

"Oscorp has many sources."

He made no attempt to disguise his dismay, his eyes widening. "You're working for Norman Osborn?"

"Are you really that surprised?" she smirked.

Strange pressed his lips into a hard line, recognizing that she was referencing his earlier remark. "I guess not. You always did speak very highly of him, despite my warnings about his methods."

"You disagreed with his means but not his ends," Janet corrected. "Both of you always pursued the same things: fame, wealth, power."

"I've changed."

"Have you?" she challenged.

He shifted uneasily, eyeing her with a rapidly increasing level of distrust.

"Remember, Stephen," she went on, "you were on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hit list not too long ago. If it had not been for the heroic actions of Captain America and others that day, the blood of nearly one million innocent people would have been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands, including your own."

Janet paused as he sat in thoughtful silence, fingers resting against his chin. When he looked at her again, his features were stern.

"What does Oscorp stand to gain from this?"

"Nothing," she lied. "We're just making sure that everyone stays accountable."

"Yeah, maybe," he mused, his piercing gaze fixed on hers. "Or maybe you're weeding out the competition."

"Enough stalling, Stephen. Are you in, or are you out? I won't ask again."

He shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. "I will do some investigating of my own to find out if there's any credibility to the information you've given me. Then, if I discover that S.H.I.E.L.D. is tampering with things that ought not be tampered with, I will interfere."

She smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

He opened his mouth to protest but then closed it again. Intrigued, he observed her closely. "So what are you now? Some sort of government spy?"

She tilted her head. "Hm, I think I'll keep you guessing."

A slight smile crept onto his lips as Janet stood and prepared to leave. Rising from his chair, Strange watched as she withdrew a small card from her coat pocket.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Doctor. When you find that lead, give me a call."

Grasping the paper between his fingers, he nodded and then accompanied her as she returned to the front door of the Sanctum. Despite her intent to see herself out, he slipped past her and opened the door. Hesitating, Janet looked up at him uncertainly.

"You know," said Strange, "despite the odd circumstances of our little reunion, it's good to see you again, Janet."

Her throat constricted, each word stabbing painfully into her chest, but she forced a smile and reminded herself to play along. "You too, Stephen."

She hesitated a moment before turning and leaving the Sanctum. Wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, Janet descended the steps, a fierce wind whipping through her black hair. She did not look back at him, did not even consider it. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him, to escape.

Once the door to her apartment shut behind her, Janet pressed her back against it and hung her head. Hot tears welled behind her closed lids, a lump burning in her throat. As hard as she had known seeing him again would be, the reality was far worse. He had not been cold and conceited and calculating. He had changed, and that was the most terrifying part. He was not the Stephen she once knew.

Instead, he had been unforeseeably kind and had welcomed her in despite not having seen her in over a decade. Janet knew that she was one of many, that there had been more than a few women in his life over the years; and yet, he had given her his full attention, had treated her with dignity and respect. Indeed, the accident had changed him, in more ways than one. She no longer knew what to expect from him—he was entirely unpredictable.

Inhaling a shuddering breath and brushing her hair out of her eyes, Janet straightened. She stood there for a long while in front of the door, gathering her thoughts and waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow before calling Norman. He would be pleased to hear that her attempt to persuade Strange had been successful. As this thought entered her mind, a satisfied smile crossed Janet's features, pride swelling inside her. Fears forgotten, she pulled out her cellphone, eager to deliver the good news.


	10. Chapter 10

Cassie was on her knees, arms over the side of the tub, chest heaving as she sobbed. Every inch hurt, and every time her eyes opened, her vision was blurred by tears. With every piercing thought, pain wracked her body, and she wondered if she could ever get off her knees. Trying her best to stifle her sobs, Cassie shoved her fist into her mouth, aware that Strange had returned moments ago.

Tears dropped off the top of her nose, and Cassie sucked in a shuddery breath, releasing her grip and curling on the bath mat. Four people. She had killed four people. Her whole body was shaking, and the lights seemed to flicker above her head. She was completely unaware of Strange knocking on the door.

"Cassie?" he mumbled quietly as his knocking grew louder.

Her sobs were audible all down the hall.

"Cassie!" His voice rose as he pressed a hand to the door.

Scuffling could be heard from inside, and Strange frowned as he heard her come to the door, though it didn't open.

"Y-yes?" she mumbled, her voice barely a squeak.

"Why don't you come out?"

"N-no. I was j-just getting in th-the shower."

"I'd like to hear about what happened with Stark today..." he prompted carefully.

"Maybe after I get out," she declared, turning on the water.

Strange sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. He would wait for her.

Cassie slipped out of the shower into the cool air, quickly wrapping a towel around her body. Sniffing slightly, she rubbed her eyes, hoping they weren't still red and puffy. Unenthusiastically, she changed into her pajama pants and a white t-shirt, letting her blonde hair fall wet around her shoulders. Opening the door with the towel still in her hand, she saw Strange sitting on the bed. He stood eagerly, approaching her before she could turn back into the bathroom.

Cassie ripped her wrist from his grasp and stared wordlessly at the floor. Strange merely held her tightly on each arm and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Cassie? Are you okay?"

"What do you think, Strange?" she spat. "I killed four people."

"Not on purpose," he muttered half-heartedly.

Wrenching herself back, Cassie turned back into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

"Don't get angry," she heard him insist through the door.

"I'm not," she choked out, turning and staring at herself in the mirror.

"What did Stark say to do when you get angry?"

"To...to...well, I don't know..." she murmured anxiously.

Her reflection stared back at her, pale and wide-eyed.

"You don't know?"

"No... He said to-to...have a routine."

"A routine?" "Did you have anything in mind?" he questioned.

She shook her head, too embarrassed to say no.

"Cassie?" he responded into the silence.

The door clicked and opened, and she watched him approach her from behind in the mirror.

"Let's go for a walk. Maybe that'll help," he murmured, slipping his hand into hers.

Nodding weakly, Cassie allowed him to lead her from the bathroom and from the Sanctum, into the cool air. Before they'd left, she'd stopped to tie on some converse, not really caring that she wore pajamas. They walked in silence, the moon shining brightly over their heads. Cassie gazed at everything but Strange, though thankful and calmed by the fact that he was there.

"Why don't you tell me what else happened while you were there?" he questioned after a while, gazing at her now ashen face.

"They want me to help them."

"What?" His gaze sharpened, and he pulled her to a stop.

She jerked suddenly and turned to face him, caught off guard.

"Yeah..." she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck, not sure how to explain. "They won't detain me...if I help them. When they need it..."

"Like a weapon?"

Cassie was surprised by the anger consuming his face. "Stephen..." she murmured, little emotion in her voice.

"Cassie, no! I...I won't let you risk that."

"They said...they said..."

"I won't let them take you away..." He shook his head furiously. "Trust me. I can handle them."

"I said I would talk to you about it," she murmured, turning and heading back to the Sanctum. The edges of her pajama pants were wet from puddles, and there was a thick moisture in the air.

"Cassie...do you trust them?" he called from behind her.

She turned, shrugging, eyes locked onto a car driving down the street in the distance.

"'Cause if you don't...there's no way that I'm letting you-"

"Letting me?" she questioned, turning to gaze at him.

His eyes were focused on her own.

"You don't get to let me," she muttered, walking back towards him. "I appreciate and respect your opinions and your help. But it's not your decision to let me or not. It's mine."

His lips parted as though he were going to say something, but he thought better of it. Turning, she left him behind.

Cassie sat at a coffee shop a couple of blocks away the next morning, sipping coffee as she stared at papers that needed to be graded. Suddenly, a couple of her sheets scattered to the concrete as a man slid into the chair across from her, causing her papers to disrupt.

"Hey-" she started to protest, moving out of the chair to grab her students' tests before they blew into the street.

"Sorry," he murmured.

She gazed up at him with recognition. Tony stark sat there with a smug smile, sunglasses on, wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned.

"Wanted to see if you'd talked to Stephen."

Cassie thought back to the night before. After Strange had caught up to her again, he'd insisted she say no, until he had at least looked into it. For some reason though, she found herself wanting to say yes. Tony was likable enough, and she hoped that maybe he could help her learn to control these powers better than Strange had.

"I have," she finally answered.

"Well?" He leaned forward, picking up her coffee and taking a generous sip.

"I haven't decided..." she murmured.

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair and removing his sunglasses. "Do you realize what we're offering you?" he murmured, gazing concernedly at her.

"What?" she replied with a hint of humor, raising her eyebrow.

"Safety."

She lowered her eyes to the table and nervously fidgeted with her pencil. "I'll-I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Cassie."

She gazed up at him again.

"Don't take anymore time. You know we can help you." His gaze was firm and steady, eyes full of trust.

"But...you also threatened to-"

"That's if you don't cooperate. It's just a precaution. You know that you need to say yes."

She nodded slowly, then more firmly and quickly. "Y-yes... O-okay."

Tony smiled broadly and reached forward, snatching her phone.

"Hey-what are you-?" Snatching for her phone, Cassie caused her coffee to spill all over her scattered papers. With a defeated sigh, she righted her cup and stared dejectedly at her students' ruined work.

"Here you go," Tony murmured, returning her iPhone. "I was just putting in my number."

She nodded, her attention now focused on her mess.

"We'll be in touch soon."

Walking back to the Sanctum, arms full of coffee-covered papers, Cassie wondered if she'd been too hasty. What would she tell Strange? As she opened the door and dumped all her stuff on a nearby table, Cassie realized she heard voices from down the hall.

"No luck as of yet?"

She heard Strange's voice.

"Stephen?" she called out, not wanting to interrupt a meeting he was having, but also not caring to eavesdrop.

Strange rounded the corner, his more formal clothing on, with his cape attached at the back. A man walked in behind him, dressed surprisingly similarly, but with long golden hair. He had a much bigger, more muscular build, and she felt quite weak and small as he entered.

"Cassie, this is my friend Thor."

"Thor..." she mumbled in wonder, her eyes growing even wider as he approached her, reaching for her hand. Her lips parted in awe as he took her hand in his own meaty one and kissed it gently.

"It is a pleasure, Cassie."

She made a terribly embarrassing squeaking noise. With her whole face turning red, Cassie couldn't think of much to say besides: "You're Thor..."

Strange laughed loudly, and Thor joined in.

"He's why I wanted you to wait before you said anything to Tony," Strange smiled. "He's here to help us."


	11. Chapter 11

The black emptiness of night was where she found her peace and solitude. It was quiet, lonely. There was no one to disturb her there, no one except the voices inside her head. They came and went, sometimes imperceptible, sometimes deafening. They had not always been there—only since that fateful day, when she had unwillingly become a lab rat in her own experiment.

Suddenly feeling like her head was going to split open, Janet caught herself against the nearest wall, nearly dropping the stack of papers clutched against her chest. She heard the sound of a glass door sliding closed and a vaporous substance hissing through open vents. Her eyes were shut tight, seeing nothing but the desolation of the void.

"Miss Carlisle? Excuse me. Miss Carlisle?"

Lifting her head, Janet found herself gazing up into the concerned face of her assistant: Rian Lucas. His hand reached instinctively toward her, but he quickly withdrew it, remembering that there would be consequences if he so much as laid a finger on her. Swallowing, he straightened, his arm returning to his side.

"Are you feeling ill?" he inquired. "Would you like for me to call—?"

"That won't be necessary, Lucas," she interrupted sternly, righting herself and reorganizing her papers. "I just lost my balance, is all."

Summoning the coldest glare she could muster, Janet jabbed a finger at the tiles behind her. "There's a slick spot on the floor. Have someone clean it up immediately."

He nodded rigidly, as if he were standing at attention and she was his commanding officer, barking orders. Storming past him, she attempted to redirect her attention back to the task at hand. In thirty minutes, she was to attend a crucial meeting, during which she would deliver a lengthy, extremely detailed presentation on how to deal with the Inhuman threat. It was beyond ironic, given the fact that she herself was Inhuman, but only a very select few within Oscorp knew this. Today, she would be discussing the implementation of these policies with Senator Ellen Nadeer, a newfound ally who sought to curb this "alien" population. With her cooperation, the tide of public opinion could be turned against S.H.I.E.L.D. and its Inhuman director.

As Janet passed rows upon rows of gray cubicles with desks and computers and silent, focused occupants, questions continued to gnaw at her. Why had S.H.I.E.L.D. taken Elias Morrow into their custody? What had caused the quakes? Was it the result of a weapons test gone wrong, or had the device done exactly what it was intended to do? Perhaps it had not been a device at all. There was, in fact, a high probability that the quakes had been caused by a high-powered individual—an Inhuman. After all, the director had previously admitted to taking them under his wing and training them as agents. If her suspicions were proven correct, and there were people with powers of this magnitude within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks, then they were the equivalent of illegally possessed weapons of mass destruction.

She already knew of the Ghost Rider and his alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D. His abilities were a threat even to her, and his full potential remained a mystery. If she could just prove that S.H.I.E.L.D. had caused the quakes instead of conveniently arriving and ending them, then that would be the only evidence needed to prompt demands for the disbanding of their corrupt organization.

"Janet!"

Startled from her thoughts, she glanced up and saw a tall man with sharp, angular features and black hair combed neatly to one side striding confidently toward her. He wore a crisp black suit and tie, giving her a winsome smile as he approached.

"Jackson," she replied pleasantly, returning his smile. "What are you doing here? I thought—?"

"I'm here to support you, of course," he interrupted cheerfully, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Today's a big day. When we gain the senator's support, Oscorp's coverage in the media will skyrocket. And, even better, it will be positive coverage."

Janet quirked an eyebrow. "Norman told you to come, didn't he?"

"What does that matter?" Jack shrugged. "I would've come anyway. You know that we always get better results when we work as a team."

She smirked. "Yeah, I guess sometimes you are a useful sidekick."

"Remember that I can make you forget you said that," he countered, gray eyes twinkling.

"All right," she laughed as he fell into step alongside her, "come on, little brother. We need to discuss our strategy."

That night, Janet turned off the television and sat back with a satisfied smile. The meeting with Nadeer had gone extremely well, and she had just finished watching her latest interview on the evening news. According to the senator, S.H.I.E.L.D. was choosing the rights of an alien population above those of the human race, while Oscorp was championing humanity's excellence. Everything was going according to plan.

Glancing down at her cellphone, which lay silently on the coffee table in front of her, Janet wondered if Strange had discovered anything that would be of use to her. He had not called, had not even texted since that day, and doubt was beginning to crawl out from the dark recesses of her mind. It was quite possible that he had lied to her just to get rid of her, or perhaps he did not wish to share the information he had gathered. Maybe he wanted to keep his knowledge secret in order to advance his own agenda, whatever that might be.

The phone buzzed, and Janet lunged forward, snatching it from the table. However, when she read the name on the screen, her heart sank in disappointment. It was Jack. "Congratulations!" the message read. Sighing, she typed a response. "Thanks. Couldn't have done it without you."

Setting the phone back down, Janet cursed and buried her face in her hands. Why did she care? Why did it bother her? It wasn't just about the mission. The pain she felt was a familiar, dull ache that she had carried with her all this time. For years, it had lain dormant, and she had begun to think that it was finally fading into nonexistence, but then Norman had given her this assignment.

Strange's blue-green gaze flickered inside her mind's eye, shattering her invisible walls and stabbing straight into her heart. In a wild burst of anger, Janet sprang to her feet and sent everything on the coffee table crashing to the floor. Then she stormed from the room, burying herself in her solitude, in her darkness, in a desperate attempt to rid herself of him.


	12. Chapter 12

Her hand ran absently through her blonde hair as she poured a cup of coffee.

"So, what are you doing on Earth?" Cassie questioned, handing the cup to Thor.

His large hand grasped the cup gratefully, and Cassie felt small and insignificant standing beside him. Thor's eyes traveled across the room, meeting Strange's gaze.

"That's currently sensitive information. I'm sorry." He shrugged one of his broad shoulders.

She nodded understandingly and stood against the wall, her flannel falling about her in a comforting way.

"Cassie?" Strange glanced in her direction.

"Hm?" Cassie's eyes flitted over to him. "Strange?"

"Something on your mind?"

She crossed her arms securely over her chest and shook her head. Guilt was pounding in her chest, threatening to burst. Stephen had been her confidant for the past several months. Anything she was feeling, he knew. He was always there, ready to listen. This had been very hard on her, and he'd been very patient. Now...he'd asked her to trust him. And she hadn't.

"No. No, nothing."

Stephen smiled at her from his spot on the couch. "She's probably intimidated by you, Thor..." he smirked as her cheeks turned red. "Every time I've seen her try to flirt with a guy...well...it's pitiful."

"Flirt?" Thor raised an eyebrow, staring at her innocently.

Cassie could feel the heat spreading in her cheeks as she stuttered to find something to say. "N-no...I-I-"

"What is a flirt, exactly?" Thor smiled, though confused.

"It just means she thinks you're attractive, Thor," Stephen laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh...well, you're quite beautiful yourself," Thor smiled at her, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips against it gently.

Cassie's eyes were fixated on his, no words leaving her mouth.

"Cassie?" Stephen prompted.

"Oh, um...thank you," she nodded.

Thor released her hand with a nod.

"But I wasn't trying to...to...insinuate that you...you needed to...or-or should..."

"Thor," Stephen interrupted again, "she thinks you're attractive but is trying to explain that she doesn't want to date you."

"Date me?" Thor questioned.

"Yeah..." Stephen shook his head. "How do I explain that?" He gazed at her with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You mean the way Jane sometimes called me her boyfriend?"

"Yes," Cassie nodded.

"I see," he finally smiled in understanding.

"Maybe we should turn to more serious matters." Stephen stood, moving toward Cassie. "After the accident, Cassie hasn't been able to learn to control her new abilities. And I thought you might be able to help. I believe your brother used to deal with-"

"Let's not speak of Loki presently."

"I apologize. Do you too have skill in the art of-?"

"Working with the mind?" Thor finished.

Cassie nodded for Strange.

"Your plague then-you suffer? In your head?"

With a meek glance at Strange, Cassie shifted uneasily. Thor took her hand again, forcing her to look at him.

"Yes..." she choked out, feeling a twinge of anger at having to relive this again.

"I see. What troubles you?"

"I...I can't...can't control my anger and things...happen."

"Happen? Things?"

"Cassie cannot broaden her mind," Strange explained.

"She doesn't understand things outside her realm?" Thor questioned.

"No."

"Have you not shown her?" Thor released Cassie's hand, turning to Strange.

"I've tried," Strange mumbled.

"Shall I?" Thor asked gently, meeting Cassie's gaze.

Cassie took a couple of steps backward, building a wall between herself and Thor. "I didn't ask for this," she muttered hastily to Strange, reaching for her purse.

"Cassie, he can help! If you understand how this all wor-"

"No. I don't want to. I won't." Her eyes were focused on her shoes, unwilling to let them see the tears she blinked away.

"Cassie, that's unacceptable!" Strange's voice was rising.

"No! It's not!" she screamed, throwing her purse on the floor and striding forward until she was inches away from him. With her hands balled into fists, she was trying to take deep, calming breaths. "You have no idea, Stephen! No idea!"

"About what?!" he demanded, his voice just as loud as hers.

"You chose this! I didn't ask for this! The things I see-the things I hear..."

"I know." He lowered his voice, anger dropping from every word. "That's why I brought him..." He jabbed his thumb at Thor. "If you won't let him help you, Cassie-"

"What, Strange?" she demanded.

"Enough." Thor's voice cut in, trying to warn them, neither aware of the trembling in the room.

"If you won't let me help you... If you won't let him help you... If you just want to remain like this forever..." His eyes were full of anger. "Causing the pain of so many...the blood, Cassie..."

She visibly recoiled as though struck. Pain began to sear her gut, but she stood firm, anger bubbling so violently in her. "What, Strange?"

He took a deep breath. "You're so stubborn. Maybe you should just go."

With the pain blinding her vision now, she slowly backed away, legs trembling. "I will!" Her voice was so high-pitched it was almost unrecognizable.

The world spun in all directions like a kaleidoscope. Cassie screamed uncontrollably and collapsed onto her knees. As her head lolled back, Cassie barely registered the feeling of two arms wrapping around her so tightly that she felt herself pressed against the floor in a ball. Everything fell dark.

Cassie opened her eyes hesitantly. She was lying in a green pasture, the night falling about like a blanket. Thor sat next to her, his eyes resting on her gently.

"Wait...wait, what happened?" she questioned, propping herself up on her elbow.

Thor stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he paced, staring up at the sky.

"I had to protect you, and Stephen," he finally answered.

"Protect us?"

Thor knelt, helping her to sit gently. With his large thumb, he brushed something away below her ear.

"Thor, did I-did I hurt anyone?" she asked with wide eyes, staring at her own hands.

"No. No you didn't."

A breeze blew through the pasture, ruffling her blonde hair. Thor raised her to her feet, his arm around her waist, and she grimaced, putting a hand to her head.

"Easy..."

She gripped his hand firmly, eyes shut tight. "Where are we?"

"I thought it best to contain your blow. We're in Asgard."

Her eyes shot open, and she gasped, clutching his hand even tighter. "Asgard?"

He chuckled lightly and nodded.

"Can we get back?"

"Of course."

"Can we go now?" Her voice was trembling lightly.

He lifted his hand again and brushed away something from her other ear. "You're bleeding," he explained.

"I'm bleeding?!" Panic overcame her face.

Thor laughed and brushed her hair back from her face. "I believe it best that we stay here for the night. You're in no condition to travel."

"But-"

"Here, right here. Don't worry." He lowered her to the ground again and let her sit, her head resting on his chest. "Where will you go now?" Thor asked her, holding her hand tightly.

"I'll...search for an apartment."

"Without guidance?"

"I don't need guidance, Thor..." She rolled her eyes, annoyed. "I'm an adult."

"But...not a normal adult."

"I know that. But-"

"But you will stay with my friends."

"Your-your friends?"

"Yes. You need people who can help you control this."

The stars above her head were undefinably numbered. They shown brighter than any visible from Earth. Cassie felt her eyes drifting closed, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"The argument you had with Stephen...was full of anger. And until you make up, which you will, my friends will care for you."

"Thor, my head hurts..." she mumbled absently, her eyes already closed.

With his hand firmly supporting her neck, Thor helped her to lie upon the cushioned grass. "Sleep now."


	13. Chapter 13

A loud buzz beside her head woke Janet from her fitful sleep. Groaning, she rolled away from it and yanked her pillow down tightly over her ears. Each subsequent vibration was punctuated by brief pauses, during which she contemplated a thousand ways to reduce her cellphone to a pile of ashes, or particles so small that they would have to be viewed under a microscope. Sunlight burned behind her closed lids, and as her grogginess reluctantly receded, Janet remembered with a wave of relief that today was Sunday—a day off.

The buzzing finally ceased, but it was followed by a single, demanding beep that compelled her to turn back over with a sigh and peer at the screen. Someone had called from a number that she did not recognize, and they had left a voicemail. Intrigued, Janet picked up the phone and shifted her body until she was lying on her back. Then she pressed it to her ear.

"Janet, this is Stephen Strange. I've found something that I'm certain will be of interest to you. Come to the Sanctum at your earliest convenience."

The message ended, and she sat up, her heartbeat accelerating. There was a lead. Forgetting the lingering misery of the night, she rose with purpose and began preparing to leave as soon as possible.

As the morning drew to a close, Janet found herself once again standing on the doorstep of the old townhouse at 177A Bleecker Street. Hands stuffed inside the pockets of her black trench coat, a shiver ran through her, but the cold had lost some of its bitter edge. Ringing the doorbell, she cast a glance over her shoulder and allowed her gaze to drift over the sparse rows of trees lining the street. Most of their leaves had fallen, but those that remained clung desperately to thin branches, orange and yellow and brown. A light breeze tousled them, and one lost its grip, fluttering away until it disappeared.

"I see that you got my message."

She turned—too quickly—and met his piercing gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, loose strands of black hair blowing across her face.

"Sorry," Strange added with a cautious smile, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Eager to change the subject, Janet swept her hair behind her ear and replied, "You said you found something?"

"Yeah, come in."

He stepped back, opening the door wide, and she entered once more into the shadow of the Sanctum. There was a soft click behind her, after which all traces of sunlight vanished.

"May I?"

His voice came from just over her left shoulder, and Janet immediately stiffened. He was offering to take her coat. Clenching her jaw, she reached up and reluctantly undid each button. Then she unfastened the belt, cheeks flushing with anger and embarrassment as Strange slid the coat off her shoulders. To her, such gentlemanly gestures were empty and ultimately devoid of meaning, especially when they came from him. It was all just for show.

Hearing his retreating footsteps, Janet risked a backwards glance and watched him carefully hang her coat on one of three golden hooks that were embedded in the wall beside the doors. There was a slight tremble in his hands. Returning her gaze to the massive room that lay before her, she listened as his boots thudded on the tiled floor, coming closer. At last, Strange stepped into her field of vision, and she raised her eyes defiantly to his.

"Do you want a drink or—?"

"No," Janet interrupted flatly. "I'm fine."

His smile faltered, the light in his eyes flickering before being snuffed out completely. At that moment, she was struck by how incredibly tired he looked. His features were pale and drawn, his blue-green gaze bloodshot and rimmed by dark circles.

The past hung between them, silent and heavy. It was like an old wound that had been re-exposed, suddenly and painfully, leaving it raw and vulnerable. Neither of them spoke for some time, their gazes locked. Hands clenched at her sides, she burned with resentment but was restrained by guilt. Finally, Strange let out a long, weary sigh and hung his head in defeat.

"You know, Janet, I'm starting to get the feeling that you really don't want to be here."

His voice was thick with bitter sarcasm, and she bit her tongue, hardening her gaze. "I told you that the only reason I'm here is because Norman sent me. This is an issue that must be dealt with. It's business, Strange, nothing more."

His scowl deepened into a frown. "You mistake my manners for amity."

A sharp, familiar sensation penetrated her chest and skewered her heart, but she smiled, as she always did when his words stung. Then she laughed, and a deep furrow appeared between his brows. "Thirteen years, and nothing's changed between us."

"Well, that's not really up for discussion, is it?" countered Strange. "As you said, this is a business meeting, so let's get to it, shall we?"

Janet nodded rigidly, following him to the left side of the grand staircase on the far side of the room. Here, there were three leather armchairs arranged in a roughly triangular formation, and a long, narrow table with a lamp stood between two of them. He sat with the table on his left, and she lowered herself into the seat across from him. Crossing one leg over the other and then settling back, she eyed him expectantly.

Strange seemed distracted, however, and appeared to be gathering his thoughts. Finally, he met her gaze and held it, his features solemn. "Last night," he began deliberately, "I was searching for mystical abnormalities within the boundaries of Earth. I was looking for anything that might be related to the incident in Los Angeles, but, for a while, I found nothing. Then I discovered something…odd. There was a magical signature, extremely powerful, but it was restrained—like it was hiding. I don't know what, or who, it is, but power like that leaves traces. Even across such a great distance, I could feel it. It was dark. It was…unnatural."

Janet shifted uncomfortably, consciously suppressing her own dark energy in hopes that he could not sense it. "Where is it?" she questioned, uncrossing her legs and leaning toward him. "Can we track its signal?"

"Already did," Strange replied, "but there's a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

He sighed. "The signal is coming from the Atlantic Ocean, about three hundred miles off the coast of Manhattan."

Her lips parted, eyes going wide, and she sat in stunned silence.

"It gets worse," he went on. "The signal is moving. I observed it for several hours, and never once did it stand still."

Janet said nothing for some time, puzzling over what this could mean. "Well," she answered finally, "there's only one way to find out if this is what caused the quakes. We need to go to the source of the signal."

"Hold on—" he raised a hand, "we?"

Strange was staring at her incredulously, but she maintained a matter-of-fact tone. "Yes. This is your area of expertise, is it not? But, unless I'm mistaken, you will need help getting there. Oscorp can provide transportation."

"You do know that this is going to be extremely dangerous, right?"

"Oh," she smiled, "I'm counting on it."


	14. Chapter 14

There were birds chirping overhead, but Cassie could hardly hear them. Her hands were clenched tightly, and her teeth bit the inside of her lip so hard she could taste blood. There was a pounding in her head, probably due to trying to keep back tears. Thor had sent her with directions, apparently having called ahead. Slowly, she raised a hand and rang the doorbell.

There was no answer, and Cassie began to breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn't wanted to come in the first place-she'd be much more comfortable on her own. That morning, she'd stopped by the Sanctum and, with her spare key, retrieved all of her stuff. She'd returned it under the mat and left without a word. Strange hadn't been there anyway. Now, with a sigh, Cassie turned, trying to quickly return to the street.

"Excuse me?" a male voice answered, and Cassie stopped, rigid.

Slowly turning, she met the gaze of a tall blond, his blue eyes focused kindly, though warily, upon her own.

"May I help you?"

Cassie adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder and re-climbed the steps.

"Are you Cassie?" he asked upon finding her silent.

"Yes," she smiled.

"Nice to meet you. Thor called ahead. I'm Steve."

He extended his hand and, with a weight upon her chest, she grasped it. With a jolt of realization, Cassie realized that she recognized him.

"Steve?" another voice from within the residency called out, and Cassie strained her neck as a young woman came up beside him. She had dark hair pulled back from her face, and she wore a sports bra and shorts, having apparently been working out.

"Wanda, this is Cassie," Steve smiled.

"Ah, yes," Wanda smiled, extending her hand as well. The accent in her voice was unfamiliar, yet intriguing.

Cassie returned the smile gratefully and followed the two inside.

"So," Steve smiled, extending his hands, "you're welcome to stay as long as you need to."

"It won't be long," she explained, "hopefully only one or two nights. Until I can find an apartment."

Wanda nodded understandingly, and Steve lifted the duffle bag and backpack from her shoulders.

"Why don't you just make yourself comfortable. Do you want some breakfast?"

Cassie quickly shook her head, still nauseated from her and Thor's return to Earth.

"Okay. Well, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Taking a seat on the couch, Cassie bit the inside of her cheek. "Well...I graduated about four years back, and I teach. I'm a teacher."

"That's great," Steve smiled.

She smiled tightly with a nod. "I'd been staying with a friend for the past...while, but we got into an argument last night, and, well..." Cassie clenched her hands together tightly and stared at the ground, trying not to appear emotional.

"How did you meet Thor?" Wanda questioned.

"W-well...he was friends with-with the guy I was staying with."

"He was?" Steve asked curiously, knitting his brows.

Cassie nodded wordlessly.

"Well, all right. That's fair enough. I'd be happy to give you a ride today to look for an apartment if you want."

"That's all right... I can go alone..."

Steve sat beside her, Wanda leaning against the far wall. "Did you know dried blood is caked all around your ears?"

She shot him a look of panic and self-consciously lifted a hand to the side of her head. "Do-do you mind pointing me to the bathroom?"

He smiled. "Sure. Just down the hall there."

Cassie focused her eyes on the floor and walked quickly from the room. Opening the door, she let it squeak shut behind her and raised her eyes to the mirror. Steve was right-there was dried blood running from her ear down to her jaw. Taking some water in her hand, she gently tried to wash it away. There was no pain, except her headache, and Cassie wasn't even sure they were related.

Finally, she had all the blood off, and she washed her hands vigorously. Silently, she wondered what Strange was doing. She hadn't meant to get so worked up...and it wasn't just that she'd almost exploded again. It was that her anger was directed at him.

Slowly, she opened the door and glanced down the hall. From here, she could hear Wanda and Steve talking.

"Yeah, Thor said she's the one behind those accidents."

Cassie's blood ran cold.

"Really?" Wanda asked, exasperated.

"Yes. And when she had that fight with Doctor Strange, she had no one left to help her control it. She's completely alone."

Cassie felt the heat spreading through her cheeks, and she quickly cleared her throat, entering the room again. "I'm just fine. Thank you though." The bitterness in her voice was obvious enough as both stared at her, open-mouthed.

"I didn't mean anything by that, Cassie," Steve mumbled, eyes wide.

"The incident was an accident."

"I never said it wasn't..." he tried to reassure her.

"And the fight I had with Stephen is none of your business."

Steve stood slowly, eyeing her warily. "Please, I wasn't trying to insult you. Don't be angry."

Taking a deep breath, Cassie nodded.

"I do want to ask you some questions though."

"All right." Her heart was pounding as she glanced up at him. He was much taller than her.

"How did you find out you had these abilities?"

"There was an accident."

"What sort of accident?"

"You see...I was-was trapped-" She shuddered involuntarily. "I should've been frozen. Like-like everyone else." Her eyes were focused on Steve no more. "It was terrible. I-I-"

Suddenly, her voice cut off, and she started to panic. The walls were closing in, boxing her up. the air was leaving the room. She was suffocating-there was no way out! Spots danced before her eyes, colors lurching her forward, throwing her to the floor. Laughter filled her head, excruciating pain bearing down on her body.

Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Cassie opened her eyes and stared up at Steve, still on her feet, though feeling off balance. "I'm sorry... I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Of course."

She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'm going to look for an apartment. I'll be back tonight."

A breath of fresh air was what she had needed. The tension in that apartment was suffocating.

The vibration in her pocket caught her off guard. Tony Stark.

"Hello?"

"Hey, doll."

"Hi, Tony."

"So, why don't you let me pick you up, all right? I need you to help me with something."

"You need my help?"

"Well, it's more that we just sorta want to see if there's other things you can do."

"Other...things?"

"Yeah. You see, we have some projects, you could say, and your talents would come in handy. If you could control them."

"I've already told you I can't do that."

"But I figure that once you've had my help-"

"Stark, not today. It was a long night and-"

"Oh, had your boyfriend over?" he teased.

A stab of pain spread through her. She hadn't seen her 'boyfriend' since her accident. Andy had promptly dumped her upon hearing about it. No one had taken an interest in her since.

Tony's voice trailed off as he realized how silent she was. Now the only sound was the blaring of horns and the sounds of people all around her. It all blurred together, however, into one, low hum.

"I can't today, Tony."

"That's not really an option. You agreed that when we needed your help-"

"No. You can't control my life like that, and you know it. There've gotta be ground rules. Unless it's an emergency, of course. If I'm teaching, Stark, then they come first-understand? I have a life of my own."

"What's so important that you can't come now?"

"I'm apartment hunting."

"Thought you were staying at Stephen's?"

"I was."

More silence. Cassie was leaning against the facade of a brick building, keeping her eyes on the crowd level.

"Tomorrow? After you finish teaching?"

"I suppose so."

"Great. Thanks, baby."

Click. Cassie smiled and rolled her eyes at the phone. To be honest, he did make her feel better.


	15. Chapter 15

Janet strode eagerly into the cockpit of the transport, where a pilot sat waiting to depart. A wetsuit clung to her skin as she pulled on a sleek jacket and conducted final evaluations of her weapons and additional equipment. Strange followed her inside, his cloak billowing behind him. As he entered, he scanned the interior of the aircraft with keen, curious eyes.

"How did Oscorp manage to get their hands on a fully functioning Quinjet?"

"We built it," Janet replied, shoving her pistol back into its holster. "Some technology was acquired. Some we discovered for ourselves. This one is outfitted with the most cutting edge capabilities Oscorp has to offer. I think you'll be surprised by what she can do."

Strange gazed thoughtfully through the viewport, his hands resting on the back of the empty copilot's seat. "So S.H.I.E.L.D. tech is acceptable as long as it's in Oscorp's possession."

Her voice remained calm but sharpened to a cutting edge. "Technology and its benefits belong to everyone, doctor, not just a select few. Surely you understand that."

Smirking, he gave a wry laugh and said nothing in reply. There it was: the arrogance that had made her blood boil since the day she met him. The difference was that now it was the result of some kind of self-righteous superiority complex that came from saving the world. By being annoying, she reminded herself.

Scornfully, Janet surveyed the robes he had insisted upon wearing over his suit. "Will you ever take off those ridiculous clothes? Did you not see how the technicians were looking at you?"

"They seemed to be admiring the view," Strange riposted with a mischievous smile. "Besides, I prefer leaving some things to the imagination."

He glanced pointedly at her suit, raising an eyebrow in mock disapproval. Fighting the urge to strike him, her hands balled into fists, her eyes like icy daggers.

"Not that I'm complaining," he added with a smirk.

Refusing to avert her gaze, Janet addressed the pilot. "Hayes, when we reach a desirable altitude, throw the doctor out the airlock."

Clearing his throat nervously, Hayes seemed uncertain as to whether or not she was serious.

"There's an airlock?" Strange quipped. "You're right. I am surprised."

Rolling her eyes, she dropped into the copilot's chair and began monitoring the Quinjet's systems. He was trying to get to her—that much was obvious. It was likely that he was going to make this short journey as miserable as possible, and Janet was starting to realize that the mission might actually be the easier challenge.

"You might want to strap yourself in," she remarked coolly, casting a glance over her shoulder.

Removing his hands from the back of her chair, Strange moved toward the nearest row of seats, which was built into the side of the aircraft. Across from him was a second row, all identical chairs with cushions, armrests, and no legs. Just as he was beginning to figure out the unfamiliar double seatbelt that crossed over his chest in an X shape, the Quinjet hummed to life. Hayes' fingers danced over the console with ease, and Janet activated the communications system, informing the technicians that they were ready to depart.

The towering doors of Oscorp Tower's hangar bay opened, and sunlight flooded the space between them. Activating the transport's cloaking device, Hayes initiated takeoff procedure. The Quinjet soared into the sky, and Strange craned his neck to gaze through the viewport. A sea of clouds rushed toward them. Entering the coordinates the doctor had given him, Hayes set course for the magical anomaly, having no idea what would happen when they found it.

Less than two hours later, the target appeared on their scanners, which began beeping and flashing incessantly.

"We've got something!" exclaimed Hayes, pouring over the information streaming across the console. "It's moving, and it's beyond our coordinates, but the scanners picked it up." He turned expectantly to Janet. "Next move?"

"Decrease altitude," she replied, eyes fixed on the display screens. "Let's see if there's anything on the surface of the water."

They were flying over open ocean now, with no land in sight. Descending beneath the clouds, the Quinjet tilted into a steady dive.

"What are you seeing?" Strange called behind them.

Raising her eyes from the screens, Janet focused her gaze on the water slipping by the viewport. "Nothing—I see nothing."

Within minutes, they were hovering directly above the source of the signal, but there were no visible signs of any abnormal activity.

"Must be below the surface," she sighed. "I expected this."

"Now what?" asked Strange.

"Take us down," she said, ignoring him and addressing Hayes. "Activate aquatic systems."

"Got it," the pilot nodded.

"Aquatic—?" Unbuckling his restraints, Strange jumped out of his seat and lunged for the back of Janet's chair as the jet continued to lose altitude.

"What are you doing?" she cried angrily. "Sit down, Strange!"

"Does this thing—?"

"She was made for this!" Janet interrupted sternly. "Now sit down before—"

They hit the water, and the impact caused the Quinjet to shudder. Strange fell forward but maintained his grip on the chair. Instinctively, Janet blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, there was nothing but deep, infinite blue. Their pace had slowed tremendously, and now they were leveling out into a fixed decline. They continued to move forward, however, following the path of their target.

Peering over her shoulder, Strange studied the displays and every new detail the scanners were feeding them. She glared up at him, irritated by him invading her personal space, but then she noticed something odd. His skin was pale, his hands trembling. He put on a brave face, but there was a flicker in his eyes—a flicker of fear. Briefly, Janet considered asking what was the matter with him, but then she thought better of it.

"Picking up something on sonar," said Hayes.

Her eyes shifted to his screen. "Got a reading?"

The pilot pressed a button, saying nothing in response. Instantly, a large shape appeared on his display. It was long and level, with rounded ends and a clearly structural design.

"Is that a—?"

"Submarine," Strange finished for her. He seemed intrigued but concerned by this unexpected discovery.

Hayes looked at her, awaiting orders, and Janet pondered in silence. Finally, she raised her head and gazed through the viewport.

"We can't contact Norman. Our transmission might be intercepted, and then we'll have lost the element of surprise. We have no choice but to go in blind, and hope we're not starting World War III."

"Wait," Strange implored, holding up a hand. "We don't have to take that risk. I can explore the sub undetected and then report back to you what I've found. After that, we can decide if engaging our target openly is worth it."

Swiveling around in her chair, she regarded him with undisguised ridicule. "And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"My astral form," he explained seriously. "Do you remember what I told you about separating my spirit from my physical body? I can do that again, and I can use it to avoid being seen."

Hayes appeared to be utterly bewildered, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, but Janet recalled that particular aspect of his tale, the one she had struggled most to comprehend. She sighed, uncertain, then waved her hand.

"All right, fine," she conceded. "I guess it's worth a shot."

Smiling, Strange gave her a grateful nod before returning to his seat. Lowering himself into it, he placed his arms on the rests and closed his eyes, relaxing against the solid support behind him.

"What's he doing?" whispered Hayes.

Silently, Janet shook her head, her gaze fixed on Strange. A moment later, he became limp, his chin dropping onto his chest and his fingers draping loosely over the edge of the armrests. The pilot sprang to his feet, and her eyes went wide.

"What happened? cried Hayes. "Is he dead?"

Standing, she took a cautious step toward Strange. He remained entirely motionless. Holding her breath, Janet advanced another step, then another. Reaching his side, she knelt and carefully placed two fingers against the side of his neck, just beneath his jaw. Feeling a shallow but steady throb, she caught herself breathing a sigh of relief.

"He's alive."

Wiping his brow, Hayes steadied himself against the back of his chair. "Great! So…what do we do now?"

Straightening, Janet turned and met his anxious gaze. "We wait."


	16. Chapter 16

Cassie stood outside, her phone in her hand, nervously rubbing the back of her neck. A gentle wind blew through the air, still dark outside. Though early, she knew he would pick up. He normally had restless nights anyway. There was a ring. Two.

Voicemail.

Cassie tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she heard his voice.

"I'm not available. I'll call you at my earliest convenience. Thank you."

Slowly, she hit the 'end call' and shoved her phone in her bag, angry at herself for even trying.

"Cassie?"

She whipped her head behind her to see Steve standing in his t-shirt and pajama pants, yawning.

"Do you want a ride?"

She stared at his messy blond hair and bare feet and couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Steve, but I can walk. Your place isn't far from my school."

"Honest..." he yawned again, "I don't mind."

"Really, it's-"

"Hold on, I'll throw some shoes on."

With a slight roll of her eyes, Cassie waited against the brick wall, running a hand through her curls. He returned a moment later wearing some tennis shoes and a jacket over his pajamas.

"So, where's your car?"

"No...motorcycle." He smiled, beckoning her around the corner.

Slightly surprised, she nodded and followed him. "You have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah. Don't worry-it'll be fun."

"Listen..."

He turned and smiled at her.

Cassie fought the urge to flatten down his messy hair. "I've never..."

His gazed softened. "It's all right. I'll take it slow. You just hold on tight. Okay?"

She nodded nervously. Steve kicked his bike into gear and held out a hand, indicating she should climb on. Cassie brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and climbed on behind him, holding tightly to his waist.

Suddenly, they jerked forward, and Cassie's grip tightened. Wind whipped past them, and she struggled to avoid her hair flying into her face. Pressing her cheek against his back, she could smell the leather in his jacket. It was a comfortable smell, soothing.

As they moved, the sky grew brighter, and the air warmer. Stars disappeared, left with streaks of blue across the sky. Steve pulled to a stop in front of her building. He hopped off and smiled at her.

"Was that okay?"

She grinned and nodded. "It...it was awesome!"

He chuckled and waited as she stepped off. "So, I'll see you tonight then?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Have a good day, Cassie."

She smiled, watching him go.

"Hey, doll."

She turned, smiling at Tony, who waited at the base of the stairs in the lobby. "Hey, Tony."

"All right, Cassie. Ready to get to work?"

"Whatever that means, Tony..." She rolled her eyes.

He grinned and beckoned her forward. "My car's right here."

Tony sighed and opened the door, staring down at Cassie's limp body. She'd passed out, trying to control her own emotions. He knelt, checking her pulse.

"Cassie?"

"Tony, why are you working so hard for this girl?"

He turned his head, meeting Natasha's gaze. Her red hair was pulled back, and she had a tired look in her eyes, as though having stayed awake all the past night.

"Don't you think Stephen Strange would be an excellent contact to possess?" he questioned, scooping the girl into his arms.

"And somehow, if you cure this kid's problems, then suddenly he's our friend?" There was a tone of annoyance in her voice.

"It's obvious that he cares a lot about her. So yes-that's the goal."

Natasha sighed and shook her head. "I'm not sure she can be helped, Tony."

"What about Bruce?" he shot back.

Her guard went up, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. "Different issue."

"Oh, is it all that different? Anger management...destruction?"

"Bruce learned how to control it."

"Which is what I'm trying to help her do."

"I'm all for that. But if she keeps causing incidents and can't learn to control it, we're going to have to restrain her."

"If it comes to that..." he nodded. "Of course. You know my stance on the Accords. I'm all for accountability."

Natasha nodded and retreated from the room, Tony behind her. He carried Cassie down the hall, into a more casual area. She began to stir as he set her on a couch.

"T-Tony?" she stuttered, opening her eyes. Her breathing quickened as she glanced around, afraid.

This was an unfamiliar room, and she couldn't remember what had happened. As panic started to overwhelm her, she felt Tony's hand cradle her face.

"It's okay."

She met his gaze briefly, her breathing returning to normal. With a nod, she turned her face away.

"Let's do it again," she murmured, struggling to stand.

"Are you sure?"

"I said let's do it again."

Her hair fell unceremoniously over her face, and her chest heaved with the effort. A throbbing had begun in her head, but Cassie was determined to make a little progress, no matter how small. Tony followed her into the room and grabbed her shoulder.

"If it's too much this time, we won't do anymore."

"I'll be fine."

He exited and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the soundproof room. Obviously, they knew what they were doing when they designed the room. Cassie doubted there was much it couldn't contain. There were no sharp objects that she could hurt herself on, nor was there anything she could break. There were no windows and only one door, though there was a mirror a few feet away.

Tony could see her through a video camera on the far wall.

Cassie thought the room needed a few calming touches, but it didn't matter all that much. Tony entered again with another needle. He'd said the formula was supposed to mimic the effects of a simulation, per say. Its pure and sole design was to elicit emotion, raw and uncontainable. Their inspiration was Wanda Maximoff.

Cassie hadn't mentioned that she knew her.

He lifted the sleeve of her shirt and stuck the small needle into her arm, then smiled cheekily at her. "Don't explode, doll face."

He shut the door as she leaned against the wall. Suddenly, her mind was whirring, and she panicked. She'd forgotten, forgotten how awful this was. Stephen was standing in front of her, eyes angry, screaming at her.

"You killed four people, Cassie! You can't be helped! I forbid...!"

His words echoed in her head over and over again. Etching into her brain. This was worse, so much worse than the real thing. The room seemed to spin. Stephen was in front of her, then behind her, then in front of her. He wouldn't stop screaming, and she could no longer hear her own voice.

Anxiously, she pressed a hand against her head and fell to her knees, pressing her palms against the sides of her head. She squeezed as hard as she could, trying to rid herself of the anger, of the memory. A curdled scream left her lips, and she felt the power bubbling up inside her. It was uncontrollable-she felt another scream rising in her throat, and she let it out, pounding a fist against the floor.

"Shut up, Stephen!"

Suddenly, her vision went black, and she was falling backwards. Tony caught her before she hit the floor, and she clutched his shirt, eyes still clenched tight.

"You didn't explode."

"Go away..." she murmured through clenched teeth.

She couldn't see the surprise on his face; she wasn't even sure if he had responded. Cassie sat on the floor, her knees pulled tight to her chest, eyes shut tight. With deep, calming breaths, she tried to end the screaming. Slowly, it faded, and Cassie was finally able to open her eyes. Tony knelt in front of her.

"Sorry..." she murmured, releasing her knees and sitting forward.

"You didn't do it, Cassie."

"Huh?"

"You didn't blow up. You didn't freak." He smiled like this was good news.

Meekly, she met his gaze and nodded. "Do you think you could give me a ride back to my place?"

His smile faded, and he nodded, standing and offering her a hand up.

The drive back was silent. Cassie had told him to just drop her off in front of Stephen's. He hadn't said anything, and she was grateful-that is, until she reached for the doorhandle to climb out.

"Cassie...that was progress."

"It didn't feel much different," she admitted with a shrug.

"It was, though. You keep trying...and-and you'll get there. Okay?"

"Okay."

She climbed from his car and rubbed her arms against the slight evening chill. He'd never returned her call, but she needed him. Especially tonight. Silence.

Nobody came to the door-nobody answered. Already knowing what she would find, Cassie knelt and picked up the mat, looking for her key. But it was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Hayes had put the Quinjet on autopilot, and now they were silently tailing the submarine, which lingered on the edge of sight. Swallowed by impenetrable blue depths, it appeared as no more than a ghostly silhouette, and Janet strained to keep her eyes fixed upon it at all times. She was on the edge of her seat, waiting for the smallest sign of trouble or the slightest hint that their target was altering its course. Unconsciously, she gripped the arms of her chair with white-knuckled hands, rigid from head to toe. The pilot was beside her, twiddling his thumbs as a way of channeling his nerves. Neither of them had spoken in over half an hour.

"Do you think he would take whatever's in there and disappear without telling us?" Hayes asked quietly, piercing the stifling tension.

"He can't leave without his body," Janet replied, unmoving.

Nodding, he accepted her answer wordlessly. Then she heard him twist around in his seat, presumably looking at their motionless companion. Shifting his attention back to her, Hayes spoke again. "It's unnatural what he does. Separating your spirit from your body…I never would have believed it unless I'd seen it with my own eyes. Before today, I wasn't convinced that there was such a thing as spirit."

Janet's gaze became distant and detached as she listened, remembering a time when she had not believed. He fell silent once more, understanding that she did not intend to respond. Time dragged on, her impatience growing with each passing moment. What was taking Strange so long? What had he found?

Suddenly, there was a loud, prolonged gasp behind them. Janet spun her chair around, and Hayes nearly jumped out of his skin. Strange was doubled over and breathing heavily.

"What did you see?" she exclaimed, standing. "Did you find the source of the energy surge?"

Still catching his breath, he straightened and looked up at her. "Yes. There were…fewer occupants than you would expect to be maintaining a sub of that size, and they weren't military. Some were wearing uniforms with S.H.I.E.L.D. insignias, and a few of them were hooked up to some kind of computer. They didn't seem like they were in pain. They looked almost…happy."

"And?" Janet pressed.

"I…felt something," he went on, taking another breath. "It was…calling to me. Like a whisper that I couldn't ignore. I followed it to it's source, and, deep below the main level, I found a hidden room. Inside, there was a book. It's what we came for. I don't know if it caused the quakes in Los Angeles, but it is far too powerful to remain in the hands of people who don't understand it."

"I knew it," she muttered angrily. "I knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved in this…"

"Don't jump to conclusions," warned Strange. "These could be rogue agents, or some kind of—"

She laughed incredulously. "You continue to ignore the evidence even when it is directly in front of you!"

"No, I'm not—" his voice, rising in volume, suddenly broke off. He exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. "Look, there's no time to argue. We need to get that book before the opportunity is behind us."

"Did you find a way to enter the sub?" asked Hayes.

"Now that I've seen it's interior, I don't need to," Strange explained. "I can open a portal in the room where the book is, and we can disappear before they even realize it's gone."

"I'm going with you," Janet declared, stepping forward.

"Why?" he smirked. "Did you miss me?"

She glared up at him defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "No. I don't trust you."

"I'll be back before you know it," he insisted, giving her an infuriating wink before turning around and walking several paces away.

Extending both arms in front of him, Strange closed all but the first two fingers of his right hand and moved his arm in a counterclockwise motion. Hayes stared, open-mouthed, as an orange circle formed that sparked and crackled like electricity. Janet stormed after Strange, refusing to let him claim the book. This was her mission, not his!

He stepped through the portal, unaware that she was following him. Janet prepared to enter behind him, when suddenly, something collided with her chest and stung her face. So forceful was the blow that she was lifted off her feet and thrown backwards. Hayes emitted a startled cry, and she hit the floor. Stunned, Janet swept her hair out of her face as she sat up and stared at the doctor's retreating back.

Strange had stopped, and now he looked at her, baffled. She only caught a glimpse of him before the portal closed, and then she became aware of an anxious voice beside her.

"Carlisle? Carlisle, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, shrugging him off and immediately climbing to her feet. In her confusion, her expression faltered. "Wh-what was that?"

Standing, Hayes swallowed, gazing at the place where the portal had vanished. "It…it was his cloak."

Janet did not expect Strange to return, but they waited anyway, continuing to follow the submarine. Now they allowed a greater distance to stretch between them, however, and she looked on resentfully as her target disappeared. There was silence in the cockpit, and she was beginning to contemplate how she would explain this to Norman when suddenly, she realized that she would not have to.

Snap! Turning, Janet saw the portal open. It was like a wheel of fire, through which she caught sight of an unfamiliar, metallic room. Strange emerged from the gateway, completely untouched and carrying a book in his arms. The opening closed behind him, and there he stood, as if he had never left.

"Got it!" he announced cheerfully, holding it aloft.

She paid him no mind, for her eyes were fixed upon the book and its blood-red cover. Embossed on its surface was an ambigram, a single word formed from ancient gold letters—Darkhold. No verbal tongue did it speak, but this peculiar book was urging her to reach out, compelling her to claim it as her own…

"Janet!"

Startled, she blinked and looked up at Strange. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to return to the Sanctum with me," he repeated, noting Hayes' raised eyebrow. "To examine the book," he clarified.

"Oh—yeah," she stammered, rising from her chair. Janet's voice became cold and level once more as she addressed the pilot. "You may return to Oscorp, but do not breathe a word of what you have seen or heard. I will report our findings to Norman myself."

"They won't learn anything from me," he assured her.

Turning back to Strange, she met his gaze. "Let's go."

He nodded, clutching the book under his left arm as he opened another portal with his right. Beyond, she could see the dim light of the Sanctum, and, following his lead, she moved toward it. Then, for the first time, Janet passed through a dimensional gateway.

"You stepped into that portal like you'd been doing it your whole life," Strange remarked as he laid the book on a desk cluttered with papers and heavy texts.

"Yeah, well…I've been through a lot in the past few years," she replied, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. "I've…seen things that made me question everything I had ever believed about the universe. Turns out reality isn't as simple and straightforward as I'd like it to be."

His fingers slid across the Darkhold's leather cover as he stepped around the side of the desk. "Yeah, when my wakeup call came about a year ago, my whole life got turned upside down. I couldn't work. I lost the only person I was still close to. Pretty soon, I was selling every valuable possession I owned just to get by."

"Except that one," she observed.

Following her gaze, he realized that she was talking about the broken watch fastened around his left wrist.

Janet watched him knowingly, arms folded over her chest. "You never were one for sentiment."

"Some things are worth keeping," Strange responded quietly.

"Wow," she snickered, "you really fell for her, didn't you? She must have been very special."

Her biting sarcasm brought color to his cheeks, and he lowered his head. "Does everything always have to be about—?"

"Us?" she interrupted curtly. "There is no us, Stephen—not anymore."

His eyes met hers, remorse flickering across his features. She shifted uneasily, her chest tightening. Strange was studying her face. Averting her gaze, Janet pretended to inspect the pattern of the mahogany flooring, her heart thumping loudly in her ears.

"Christine," he said finally, breaking the silence. "Her name is Christine—the woman who gave me this." He tapped the watch with his finger, and she risked a glance at him.

"We're…not together anymore. After our last fight, she never spoke to me again. I tried to contact her, tried to tell her how sorry I was, but she never responded. I've only seen her twice since then. She's the nurse I told you about, the one who saved my life."

"Smart woman," Janet remarked coolly.

He gave a wry laugh, then smiled sadly. "You never stop, do you?"

Her eyes glinted, and she did not reply, but she found herself unexpectedly returning his smile.

"I…meant to apologize," Strange said after a moment, guilt creeping into his voice. "The Cloak has a mind of its own, and I didn't mean for it to—oh come on!"

His exclamation came as a result of the Cloak abandoning his shoulders and floating away. She stiffened as it flew past her shoulder and toward the doorway behind her.

"Hey, come back here!" he called, but the Cloak ignored him.

When it had gone, Janet sighed and shook her head. "Wow, it hates me already. That must be a new record for me."

"Don't take it personally," Strange replied, glaring at the vacant opening. "It doesn't like most people."

Reminded of the painful blow the Cloak had dealt her on the Quinjet, she reached up and lightly brushed her fingers over her face. When they contacted her right cheek, a sharp stinging sensation caused her to wince.

"Let me help you with that," he offered, stepping toward her.

Instinctively, Janet backed away, and he stopped. "Is it bad?" she inquired, feeling the unnatural puffiness of her skin.

"No worse than a few bee stings…across your entire face," answered Strange, failing to conceal his amusement.

"What?" she exclaimed, pressing her hand to her cheek.

"Okay, maybe I exaggerated," he laughed.

Scowling, Janet lowered her hand. "I hate you."

"I know," he smirked. "Wait here, and I'll bring you an ice pack."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Strange had already moved past her and was heading for the door. Promptly closing it again, she stood alone in the midst of the vast library. The Darkhold lay on the desk nearby, its seductive whisper inviting her to come closer. Casting a wary glance over her shoulder, Janet considered her options. Strange would be back soon. She would not have much time, but just a peek beneath its ancient cover would be sufficient. There was no knowing what kinds of untold secrets lay hidden in those pages, but she intended to find out.


	18. Chapter 18

Shooting up, Cassie gasped, her face dripping with sweat. Her clothes were soaked through, and she shivered uncontrollably. Another nightmare had just awoken her from sleep. She stared about the dark of Steve's living room and lifted a shaky hand to wipe her eyes, where tears had gathered. Reaching over the side of the couch, she groped for her phone and picked it up, suddenly blinded by the bright screen. There were no messages from Strange. Somehow, she had hoped he might return her call.

As she stepped off her makeshift bed and stumbled through the dark, she made her way into the hall. Turning on the light from the bathroom, Cassie stared at her own reflection. Her eyes were wide, face pale, and she couldn't stop shaking.

"Cassie?"

Steve stood in the doorway, blond hair sticking up on one side and blue eyes half-closed from exhaustion.

"S-Steve..."

He eyed her curiously and ran a hand through his hair, yawning. "Are you okay?"

Weakly, she nodded, unwilling to meet his cautious gaze.

"Cassie?" He reached out and placed his hand on her upper arm. "What's the matter?"

"I'm fine..."

"Why don't you come sit down? You don't look well."

He slid his hand down and grasped her hand, leading her back into the living room. He flicked on a light, and she sat on the couch, his hand still in her own. She couldn't meet his gaze, so she stared, wide-eyed, at the floor instead. He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and pity.

"Are you sick?"

"Yeah," she lied, pulling her hand from his.

He didn't say anything, but stood, leaving the room. A sigh left her lips, and she buried her head in her hands, trying hard not to cry. She couldn't seem to get the scene from her head. It penetrated her dreams and nightmares. The blood that coated her shirt, people lying and screeching in pain on the concrete. And she was the cause.

"Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and Cassie bit her lip hard, trying to stop them.

"Cassie?"

She sniffed, pressing the base of her palm against her eyes and refusing to look at him.

He knelt beside her and brushed a strand of hair off her face. "I brought you some water...and crackers. And a thermometer... Just tell me if you need anything else."  
She didn't say anything for a moment; she couldn't stop crying. Steve reached over and laid a comforting hand on her knee.

Finally, she pulled her hands away and choked back a sob. Cassie found him still sitting there with a kind smile.

"S-Steve? Could...could we...go for a ride?"

His eyes widened, and he tilted his head, forehead creased. "Well, sure. I'll be right back. It'll just take a second."

She nodded and stood, staring down at her t-shirt and shorts. Her converse sat next to the couch, but Cassie didn't want to put them on. She waited in the dark for Steve, a light flickering outside the window. It was so early in the morning...only 3:37, and yet, here Steve came, his jacket on and tennis shoes peeking out from under his pajama pants.

"Come here and put on an extra jacket I have," he smiled at her.

When she stood in front of him, he handed it to her, smiling down at her tear-streaked face.

"Lets go." He reached down and grasped her hand, and, without waiting for a response, pulled her through the front door.

There was a definite chill in the air, and as Steve started the bike, she slid into his jacket. It was much much too big for her. The sleeves fell far past her wrist, and the jacket fell past her shorts.

"Come on," he grinned, motioning her over.

She climbed on behind him, sniffing again, and wrapped her arms about his waist, pressing her head against his back. The engine roared, and they took off down the road. She didn't care where they went-she just wanted to feel a sharp wind in her face, helping her forget her pain. Soon, she was almost lulled by the sound of the bike engine, the wind rushing past them. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. There was something secure she felt in sitting behind him, wrapped in the jacket much too big for her.

Eventually, he pulled to a stop and helped her off. Uncertainly, she glanced around, unaware of their surroundings. Steve cleared his throat, and she glanced up at him.

"Did you wanna take a walk?" he murmured, indicating the park across the street.

Everything about them was silent. It seemed even New York had reached that quiet time of night.

"Sure..." Cassie thought her voice sounded small and weak in comparison to Steve's commanding voice.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and led the way across the street. Cassie saw a man lying on a park bench to her right, fast asleep in a zipped up sleeping bag. Besides the man, there seemed to be no one else around.

They walked for a long time, her bare feet on the grass, not saying a word, until finally, his voice cut the silence.

"What's the matter?"

"I dunno..." she lied quietly.

"Okay," he murmured, respecting her privacy.

"It's just..." Her voice trailed off as she stopped, burying her feet in the grass.

Steve stopped, turning back to gaze at her. Her eyes were downcast, and she rubbed her foot nervously against her leg.

"It's just..."

He stepped closer and raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

"It's just...I miss Strange."

Cassie wondered how obvious it was that there was more to the story... It was just that she couldn't bear to tell it.

"Stephen Strange?" Steve asked.

"Yeah..."

"You were close then?"

"I thought so..." Her throat constricted, and she glanced away uncertainly.

"He'll come around, Cassie... I'm sure he's missing you."

Steve's reassuring tone brought her eyes up to his. He was so confident, his kind blue eyes fixed on hers.

"Come on," he murmured, grasping her hand and pulling her along. "Lets go home and get some sleep... You have to teach."

Cassie followed him obediently as he led her to the bike. "Thanks Steve," she murmured as she climbed up behind him.

He turned his head behind him and murmured something to her, but she hardly heard him now that he'd started the bike.


	19. Chapter 19

"Janet!"

His voice was like a distant echo, one that was all too easy to ignore. He called her name again, more forcefully, but she continued to ignore him. Her eyes kept moving, drinking in the captivating words written in perfect English across the pristine pages. Though the Darkhold's mysterious cover suggested an ancient or perhaps alien origin, it and its contents remained in impeccable condition. So vast was its knowledge, so limitless was its power, that Janet was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it.

Suddenly, a hand clamped around her arm and snatched her away. The book slammed shut, and she found herself face to face with Stephen Strange. Fear and anger swirled in his eyes as he held her firmly in place, and at that moment, Janet was aware of nothing but the strength of his grip and the intensity of his gaze.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I just wanted to—"

"When I said 'examine,' I didn't mean 'read!'" Strange interrupted sternly. "You don't have any idea what this book is capable of! Magic is not a toy. Even someone with the best of intentions can tear reality apart!"

His breath was hot as it crashed against her skin, and her eyes blazed. "You just want it for yourself!" Wrenching herself from his grasp, she took a step back from him.

"You asked for my help, and I gave it," he protested. "A potential weapon is out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands, just like you wanted. Are you really going to be so quick to accuse me after everything I just did?"

Chest heaving, Janet took a moment to breathe. Her blood was boiling. Her thoughts were muddled and confused. She was being ridiculous, she realized.

"You're right," she admitted, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Of course. I...don't know what I was thinking. Just got a little ahead of myself, I guess."

Strange stared at her, stunned. "Uh, I'm sorry, did you just—?"

"Don't push your luck," Janet warned. "I'm not repeating it."

Still taken aback by her unexpected apology, his lips curved into a slight smile. "All right. Well, I guess it's time to get to work then."

"I'll leave you to it," she replied. "Norman will be wanting to know if our mission was successful."

"You don't have to go," he said with a hint of disappointment. "I didn't mean to lose my temper. I just—I've seen what magic, especially dark magic, can do to people. I was only trying to protect you."

"I don't know what help I would be studying a relic like this. Like you said, you're the expert. Call me when you've discovered more about its intended purpose."

She started to turn away, but Strange stopped her with a question.

"What did you see?"

"I'm sorry?" Janet inquired, facing him once more. She knew exactly what he meant of course, but chose to feign ignorance.

"You read it," he clarified. "Part of it, at least. What did you see?"

Her features became like stone, unreadable. She shrugged and shook her head, the lie rising easily to her lips. "Magical jargon. Nothing that I could understand."

Pressing his lips together, Strange nodded. "Had to ask."

Janet nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She knew that she should thank him but could not bring herself to do it. Her pride would not allow her. "You will be compensated for your efforts," she said finally, maintaining a comfortable distance in both tone and physical proximity.

"That's not why I'm doing this, Janet. Tell Norman that he can keep his money. I don't want it."

She blinked, continually surprised by how much he had changed. "All right. Well, if you change your mind, the offer still stands."

Strange nodded in acknowledgement but remained steadfast in his decision. Making no further attempt to persuade him, she departed the Sanctum without another word.

Dropping her keys and purse on the counter, Janet stopped and gazed silently through the pair of windows on the far side of the room. The Empire State Building glowed against a deep blue sky, surrounded by a sea of lights that defied the coming darkness. Four additional windows lined the adjacent walls, two on the left and two on the right. Beyond them was a maze of color and towering structures that dazzled her eyes.

Advancing further into her quiet apartment, high above much of the city's noise, she did not bother to flip a switch. The absence of light was a far greater comfort. Moving down the short hallway, Janet entered her bedroom. The drapes were drawn shut, as they always were, shielding her from prying eyes as she sank onto the edge of the bed and closed her eyes.

She had just gotten off the phone with Norman. He was not convinced that this was the proof they needed to take down S.H.I.E.L.D., but he was pleased by the discovery of a rare and incredibly powerful magical object. He had advised her to wait and learn what she could from Strange about the book before taking any additional course of action, so that was exactly what she intended to do.

Her thoughts diverged. The voices were there. She could always hear them once she was alone and could distance herself from the rest of the world. They terrified and intrigued her all at once, some screaming, others wailing. The few that remained whispered things, arcane secrets about gateways and dimensions beyond her own. Much of what they said had been unintelligible before, but this time, something was different.

The words she had read—she understood them. Janet was incapable of explaining it, but somehow, the Darkhold had granted her instant comprehension of mystical knowledge that she had previously been entirely ignorant of. Now there were spells in her mind, ancient incantations that invoked powers she did not even know existed.

"Dormammu," she murmured thoughtfully. "What is Dormammu?"

Focusing her mind and energy, she tapped into her abilities as she always did. She could feel the darkness engulfing her, could sense its presence beyond the walls that confined her. Light appeared as flaming orbs that burned as she consumed them. Without realizing it, Janet extended her reach to the buildings around her. The channel had widened. Hungrily, she devoured the sources of their power, causing electrical surges to pulse wildly through her veins.

The pain began like a faint tingling in the tips of her fingers and toes, but it was growing with each passing moment, spreading into her arms and legs and searing her torso. With a startled cry, Janet released her hold. She slumped forward, hands gripping her knees as she heard a strange sound outside her window. Slowly, she rose, feeling stronger than ever before. A storm raged inside her, increasingly deadly and always on the precipice of being unleashed.

Moving to the window, Janet reached up and parted the curtains. What she saw caused her hand to fly to her mouth and her eyes to widen in shock. The surrounding buildings had gone dark. Staggering backwards, she dropped onto the bed and continued to stare, unable to tear her gaze away. She had done this, and it was safe to assume that her own building had lost power as well.

Her hands lay in her lap, palm-side up, and Janet looked down at them. The Terrigen Mist had changed her, had given her access to invisible energies that existed in the world around her, but the Darkhold had acted as a flood bursting through a dam. Now her raw power was enhanced by knowledge. Still, she was limited by her own lack of experience. There was no mentor to guide her, no access to literature that could explain the nature of her abilities. Unless—no.

Janet stopped herself. Her thoughts had turned to Strange, his education in the mystic arts, and his vast library of books on the subject. But she could not tell him, could not allow him to find out what she was. Her powers were rooted in something dangerous and potentially self-destructive, something he certainly would not approve of. Besides, as long as he thought she was a helpless noncombatant, she had the element of surprise.

She needed to wait, needed to bide her time until the opportune moment. Norman was not ready to make his move yet. He wanted to wait until he was certain that risking everything for the Darkhold would be worth it, and Janet had no intention of subverting his plans.


	20. Chapter 20

The clouds swirled above, as dark and unrelenting as her mood. She'd left early that morning. When she'd awoken, Cassie had a terrible, splitting headache, and she just wanted time by herself. Somehow, she felt embarrassed by her actions the previous night. In the light of day, she realized how silly she must have looked to Steve.

So now she took the familiar route, her feet moving of their own accord, her hands stuffed into the pockets of Steve's jacket. She'd failed to give it back, her own still at Stephen's.

The sound of a incessant beeping cause her to look up. Trucks were lining the street, men in orange hard hats above her on beams, placing new windows onto the buildings. Realization dawned on her. This was her wreckage.

Cassie stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock. A man brushed past her with a briefcase, and she stepped backwards onto the street. One lane was closed for construction, and Cassie felt her heart thumping loudly. People had died here. Closing her eyes, she balled her hands into fists. With a deep breath, she moved forward. Her feet climbed the familiar steps, and she knocked hesitantly on the door. There was no answer.

Cassie began to sigh frustratedly. She just wanted more of her stuff back.

"Stephen, please!" she called out loudly.

Suddenly, she heard a scuffling behind the door, and it was flung open. Her heart soared, and she smiled. His cape floated there, and upon seeing her, it slammed the door. It must have recognized her voice.

"Hey!" she cried out angrily. "Wait! Just...just let me get my stuff."

The door creaked open.

"Please..." she pleaded, sliding her hand in between the door and the frame.

The cape opened the door, and she swore that if it had ever been mad at her, it certainly was now. As she stepped inside, it slammed the door again and rapped her on the back of the head.

"Ow! I know, I know..."

With a smile, she tried to win its favor. Instead, it turn on her, floating down the hall.

"Come on! I've tried to apologize to him!"

The cape stopped, unwilling to turn.

She creeped behind it. "Please? It was a mistake. Don't be mad..."

Its shoulder turned slightly, and she approached, trying to smile.

"Is he here?"

The cape just fluttered to the side, leaving the entryway open.

"I'm just gonna grab the rest of my stuff, okay?" She moved past and walked toward her room.

There was a deep comfort she felt in just being back here. She pushed the door of her room open and found it just as she'd left it. Grabbing her duffel bag from under her bed, she pushed in the rest of her clothes, shoes, and books. She pulled her own jacket out of the closet, though she liked Steve's more.

Finally, she sat on the bed, hands clasped together in her lap. Slowly, the cape slipped inside her room and went limp on her bed. She smiled down at it.

"Let him know somehow...that...that I miss him. Please?" Shouldering the bag, Cassie sighed. "Guess I'd better go teach."

"How was school? Do you have any homework? You just let us know if you need any help! We have milk and cookies waiting for you at home," Tony teased as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Oh shut up..." She rolled her eyes, placing her bag in the back seat.

"You look tired." He glanced over at her.

"No, I'm fine..."

Somehow, she couldn't keep her thoughts from Steve during that car ride. Cassie was just so embarrassed. She'd spent all day refusing to think about him, until she'd gotten a phone call on her break, that is.

"Hey, Cassie. Listen, I have some good news. An apartment opened up in my building. I can take you by to see it this afternoon if you want. It's in your price range, and you're...well, you're down the hall from my place...and I just thought...well, I can show it to you if you want. Um...just call me back. Okay...bye."

Cassie had listened to it three times, trying to decide what to tell him. He was so nice, and so was Wanda, but truthfully, she didn't want to live down the hall from them. They weren't even really friends. She wanted Stephen.

"Cassie?"

Her head snapped toward Tony, and he grinned, amused. "What?"

"I tried to get your attention. Your phone-it's ringing."

She glanced down and saw Steve's name across the front of her screen.

"H-hello?" She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with Tony sitting so close. "Yeah, Steve, I-"

Suddenly, the car jerked forward, and Cassie glanced over, shocked to see Tony's face paled with wide eyes. He continued driving, pretending as though he wasn't listening.

"I was thinking I could pick you up from school on my bike, and we could-"

"I can't," she interrupted.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and she squirmed in her seat.

"Steve, it's just...I...have a date." Her face turned bright red as Tony glanced over at her, raising his eyebrow.

"A...a date?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

An awkward silence rang over the phone, and she bit her lip nervously.

"Maybe tomorrow? Another time?" he suggested.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Okay...well, I'll see you tonight then." His voice sounded tight, and she nodded, forgetting he couldn't see her.

"Yeah. I'll see you tonight."

Again, Tony glanced over at her, confusion in his eyes. She hung up the phone and stared at her clasped hands, wishing she'd ignored the call.

"You have a date?" he teased.

She blushed again, not saying anything.

"Who was that?" His voice had turned harsh, and she glanced up, surprised.

"A friend of mine."

"Named Steve?"

She glanced out the window at the light rain pattering down the windows. "Yeah..."

"Steve Rogers."

She let her eyes pass over to him. His hands clenched the wheel tightly, and his knuckles were white. With his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, it wasn't hard to figure out that he was angry with her.

"Yes, Tony... You know him-don't you?"

Suddenly, he slammed on the break and pulled to the side of the road.

"What are you doing with him?" he demanded, leaning over in his seat to stare at her.

Suddenly, she felt a little nervous, and her fingers clenched around her phone. "I told you I wasn't staying with Strange anymore. I-I-"

"Steve Rogers. The Steve Rogers. Captain America?"

She blushed and nodded, staring anywhere but his eyes.

"Is his friend with him?" he spat angrily. "I hadn't realized he'd come back to New York."

"What do you mean, 'back to New York'? And yeah. Wanda's there. Is that who you meant?"

"Never mind, Cassie." He stared at the wheel for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

"I saw that you have a picture of him," she blurted out.

"What?" He wheeled on her again, eyes burning.

"The first time I came to the facility... Listen, don't get angry, Tony... I don't even know why you're mad."

Suddenly, he threw open the door and stormed into the rain. She sat in stunned silence for a second, confused by his anger. Her door was thrown open, and Tony grabbed her arm, pulling her from the car.

"Hey!" she screamed, falling backwards into the slick grass.

"How could you not mention that?"

She was suddenly very wary, aware that something was happening.

"Where is he staying?" Tony demanded.

"I-I don't understand."

Tony reached out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Steve and I don't get along," he seethed.

"That's not my problem!" she retorted, hands balling into fists.

"What do you mean it's not your problem? Of course it's your problem."

"No it's not! I like staying with Steve!"

"Why? You should know what he is, Cassie...what he's done."

She felt a heat rising in her chest. Cassie turned around, placing a hand on the car and taking a deep breath. With her eyes closed, she could sense something. Colors swirled around her, and she tried to block out Tony, aware that her anger was not leading her closer to where Stephen wanted her to be. She did her best to control the anger bubbling up in her throat. Her head shook, and she tried to hold onto her reality, as she had done at the facility.

"Are you listening to me?" she heard him demand, his voice far off.

"Tony, shut up," she retorted, her voice rising.

His voice became deathly calm in her ear. "I need know where Steve Rogers is. And Bucky Barnes."

Her vision snapped, and she spun around, bringing her knee up into his stomach. He did little more than grunt, stumbling backwards a few steps.

"I don't care what the heck happened between you and Steve Rogers. But he's a safe place, and I will not let you bully me."

She cried out in pain as her anger began to overwhelm her. Dropping to her knees, Cassie felt tears falling down her face, but she couldn't see. She clenched her fists tightly and pressed them against the sides of her head. As if reality was bending toward her, Cassie suddenly felt herself moving very quickly.

The pain in her head was disappearing, her heart pounding like a drum. She couldn't see or hear Tony anymore, only the colors that surrounded her.

"Focus... Focus..." she repeated to herself.

The pain in her abdomen was steadily increasing. Things began to take shape, when suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to her feet. Everything shattered, and Cassie let out a shriek, falling against Tony as the pain in her gut exploded. Everything went dark.


	21. Chapter 21

Drills whined and groaned, gruff voices barked directions to one another, and larger machinery rumbled as loads of bricks and mortar were transported to the upper levels of the newly reconstructed buildings on Bleecker Street. The lower floors were nearing exterior completion, but those above remained skeletal, their steel bones gleaming in the afternoon sun and their plastic coverings flapping in the wind. Janet squinted up at them as she passed, using her hand to shield her eyes from the fierce glare. Previously, she had been too preoccupied with her mission to give them much thought, but she had seen the incident reported in the news when it occurred.

The catalyst remained unidentified. Many experts declared that structural errors had caused the buildings to collapse, while several witnesses claimed that they had felt tremors in the earth. Throughout the duration of the event, there had been no sign of S.H.I.E.L.D., but someone had showed up and had saved many lives. Stephen Strange had arrived on the scene long before any emergency personnel, multiple cameras capturing footage of him flying through the air, his red cloak billowing dramatically behind him as he carried men, women, children—even pets—to safety. At first, she had attributed his immediate response to proximity, but now she questioned that assumption. What if there was a deeper connection?

Remembering the perfect efficiency with which he had retrieved the Darkhold from a submarine filled with S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, Janet frowned. He had returned completely unscathed, had not encountered a single obstacle that was capable of delaying him. She suspected treachery. In fact, she was almost certain of it. There was just one problem: why had no one come to arrest her? Why had agents in black suits not thrown her into the backseat of a bulletproof vehicle and transported her to a classified interrogation facility, where the most refined methods of torture would undoubtedly elicit a confession from her, real or not?

It was possible that Strange had not betrayed her, but it was far more likely that he had, and now he and whichever intelligence agency he had reported her to were simply waiting for the opportune moment to bring her down. Perhaps they wanted to first discover the full extent of her intentions and collect evidence against her and her employer. Then, and only then, would they deliver the fatal blow. This was Janet's foremost concern. The distress caused by her rapidly increasing powers was vastly outweighed by her fear that she had been compromised. However, despite recounting every excruciating detail of her endeavors so far, Norman had insisted that she continue.

She admired his unfailing optimism, but at the same time, a seed of doubt prompted her to wonder if they were going too far this time. What if their attempt to destroy S.H.I.E.L.D. ended with their own demise? What if they lost everything they had worked so hard to build? Shaking her head, Janet scolded herself. She could not afford to harbor such uncertainties, especially when there was so much at stake. Norman was counting on her to see this through.

Returning her attention to the task at hand, Janet climbed the now familiar steps of the Sanctum Sanctorum and rang the doorbell. Strange had not yet called to tell her what he had learned about the Darkhold, but she could not restrain her burning curiosity any longer. Crossing her arms, she tapped the toe of her boot impatiently as she waited. Finally, the door opened, but Janet's greeting died on her lips.

"Hello there."

The Asian man who stood before her spoke warmly and wore a kind smile, his face round and his head shaved. He was garbed in a red robe, which was fastened by a sash at his waist, dark pants, and boots. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as she inspected every inch of his appearance. So, she thought, Stephen has friends that are just as crazy as he is.

"How may I be of assistance?" the stranger inquired, either taking no notice of or choosing to ignore her skeptical demeanor.

Janet blinked, opening her mouth to speak, but a second voice cut in, sounding just over the man's right shoulder.

"I said that I would get it, Wong," Strange remarked irritably, appearing in the doorway. When his gaze found her, he instantly straightened. "Janet! I…didn't know you were coming here."

"A client, I presume?" inquired Wong with a sideways glance.

"Uh, yeah," Strange stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Janet, this is my friend Wong. I asked him to assist me in studying the Darkhold. Wong, this is Janet Carlisle, my…"

"Ex," she finished as he trailed off uncertainly. Stepping forward, she extended her hand with a smile.

After considering it for a moment, Wong shook it and met her gaze. Though without enmity, his brown eyes were keen and penetrated hers. He was studying her closely, and Janet got the distinct impression that he was attempting to learn as much as he could about her without questioning her directly. Becoming increasingly aware of her magical abilities, she forcefully stifled them, crushing them until they were small and scarcely detectable by her own consciousness. She currently had no evidence to support her theory, but she feared that Strange—and possibly this man—might be capable of detecting her powers if she did not suppress them.

"We're not as far along as I would've liked to be before contacting you," the Doctor explained as she crossed the threshold, "but we've been poring over numerous volumes that speak of this book and its nature."

"Stephen," Wong warned, closing the door behind them, "is it wise to be disclosing this information?"

"She's been involved in this from the beginning," Strange assured him. "She was there when I found the Darkhold."

"When we found it," Janet corrected.

"Right," he acknowledged with a smirk.

Narrowing his eyes, Wong stopped and folded his arms over his broad chest. "And what, may I ask, is her interest in this matter?"

"It's a long story," Strange replied with a reluctance that she had not expected.

"I have time," his friend persisted.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm standing right here, you know."

"So you are," said Wong, turning to address her. "Perhaps you will enlighten me."

"I would be glad to," she responded confidently, raising her chin and eyeing him defiantly. "My purpose in tracking down this book is not without just cause. I am seeking the source of a powerful energy surge that caused an extremely abnormal earthquake in Los Angeles. The widely accepted narrative is that the Inhuman Daisy Johnson summoned the quake to rid the city of a particularly dangerous threat. However, I have sources who tell me that something far more sinister was going on, something that S.H.I.E.L.D. was aware of and perhaps had a hand in. I want to find out what really happened that day, and Stephen has agreed to help me do just that."

Wong exchanged a glance with Strange as she continued.

"In fact, on my way here, I walked past the wreckage of buildings located on this very street, buildings that were decimated by a quake that occurred less than a week ago. In case you didn't know this: Manhattan doesn't have earthquakes! Something big is happening, something that involves massive surges of unnatural energy. We found the Darkhold off the coast of Manhattan. Who's to say that it wasn't the catalyst for the disaster on Bleecker Street?"

Wong was watching her silently, his expression unreadable. Shifting restlessly, Strange blinked, dropping his gaze to the floor. His scarred hands clenched into fists at his sides and then flexed.

"Forgive me if I seem suspicious, Miss Carlisle," Wong said finally, his features softening. "As someone who seeks to assist the Sorcerer Supreme in carrying out his duty to protect this realm, I must ensure that contact with mystical objects such as the Darkhold is extremely limited. Since the day of its creation, it has been wielded as a weapon of tremendous power, a means to bring about terrible destruction. It is capable of corrupting, enslaving, and driving mad anyone who tries to read it, which is why its cover will remain unopened."

Resisting the temptation to glance at Strange, Janet held Wong's gaze and attempted to maintain a guiltless expression. Suddenly, the ringing of a nearby cellphone shattered the moment of tense silence.

"Uh, excuse me," Strange apologized, striding swiftly to the table that sat to the left of the wide staircase. Snatching up his cellphone, he swiped his finger across the screen and then pressed it to his ear. "Yes?"

There was a brief pause, during which Wong turned away and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but her eyes were fixed on Stephen's back, her breath catching inside her chest as soon as she saw his posture stiffen. Something was wrong.

"I'll be right there," he said in a low voice, but his words seemed to echo in the cavernous room.

Abruptly, he hung up and cast his phone onto the cushion of the nearest chair. Pivoting sharply on his heel, Strange took two steps toward them and then stopped. His brow was creased, his lips pressed tightly together and his fists clenched once more at his sides.

"I have to go. Janet, wait here with Wong. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" she asked, pursuing him as he turned to his right and began opening a portal.

"Someone needs my help," Stephen responded through gritted teeth.

Energy swirled and crackled, orange sparks flying. There was no time for her to find out what awaited her on the other side of the portal, but one thing she knew for certain: whatever he had been told during that phone call had deeply upset him. A person he cared about was in some sort of trouble. This was exactly the kind of weakness Norman would want her to exploit. She had no choice but to follow him. And, she thought, her real reason for refusing to be left behind could be easily concealed by a guise of concern.

Her mind made up, Janet feigned acceptance and took a step back. Then, as Strange entered the gateway, she launched herself forward. With no Cloak of Levitation to stop her, she slipped through the fiery circle just before it closed and vanished from sight.


	22. Chapter 22

There was blood dripping from the corners of her mouth as she lay on her back, watching the clouds roll by over the dark sky, raining pouring against her face. Everything hurt. There were nearby screams, and Cassie vaguely wondered how many people she'd hurt. Trying to sit, she found the effort overwhelming and leaned forward, retching blood into the grass. She couldn't stop as it covered her shirt and chin. Sweat poured down her face, salty tears mixing with the blood as she clutched wet grass in her hands.

With a glance to her right, she saw Tony lying some feet away, face down, with blood dripping from his temple. With trembling legs, she bore her weight, standing and surveying the damage. Not only had Tony's car flipped, but several others had as well. Her heart plummeted. There were people screaming as they tried to emerge from their cars, trapped underneath them. Children sat on the pavement, crying as adults ran back and forth, doing what they could.

Cassie took a shaky breath, holding her head in her hands. Not again... Not again. She felt the heat in her chest rise and fall like the beat of a heart, and suddenly, her head seemed to explode. All of her energy was focused on the nearest car. Underneath were two teenagers, crying out in pain. As she focused, the car began to move upward, then came down with a crash behind them into the ditch.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed into the mud. With a smack, her face hit the dirt, her own blood mingling with the muddy water. Around them was a stretch of woods, and as Cassie gazed around her, her fear steadily grew. With little remaining strength, she pulled herself to her feet. As she stepped forward, her stomach gave, and she threw up more blood into the grass.

Quickly, she moved toward Tony, rolling him over onto his back. His eyes were closed, blood pooling under his ear. Stifling a sob, Cassie pressed her ear against his chest for a heartbeat.

Relief flooded through her as she stood, thankful he was alive. Carefully, she backed away from the accident, turning and sprinting into the cover of the woods. The rain hit the leaves and drenched her skin. She kept running, scared to turn back, scared to see what she'd done. With a reverberating pounding in her head, Cassie kept going, one foot in front of the other.

Eventually, her legs gave out, and she tripped, collapsing onto her face. With a weak moan, she tried to lift herself out of the muck, but she had no strength left. Blood, sweat, mud, and tears coated her body, and Cassie wasn't sure she would ever be able to move again. Everything hurt. Everything.

Time seemed to pass endlessly, broken only by fits of coughing or retching. She drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of her surroundings. Days later, or so she assumed in her mind, she heard voices in the distance. Frightened, she tried to stand, tried to run, but she could hardly move. There was a thrashing in the woods to her right, and three people moved into view. She couldn't see them yet; they were dark against the nightfall.

"Cassie?"

She tried to answer with a hoarse whisper, but nothing came out. A strong hand rolled her onto her back, and she stared weakly into the face of Stephen Strange. She didn't say anything, her eyes closing as she struggled to breathe.

"Stark, pass me that water."

She felt cool water running over her face, washing away the blood and dirt. Weakly, she opened her eyes and stared at the smile that looked back down on her.

"See, now I know it's you," he murmured, lifting a hand under her neck.

She couldn't say anything; her eyes just welled up with tears. Strange bent and collected her into his arms, and with her last remaining strength, she began to sob. Her fingers clutched at his robe, and she buried her head in his shoulder. Her throat burned, but she couldn't stop, unwilling to let go, afraid he would disappear. He had a hand buried in her hair, the other holding her tightly.

With her sobs dying out, replaced by sniffling, Strange stood, carrying her in his arms. Cassie only then turned her attention to the two others standing there. One she did not recognize. It was a woman, taller than herself, with dark hair that clung to her shoulders in the rain. She wore a surprised expression, though calculating and wary. Tony stood beside her, his eyes wide-with anger or fury, she wasn't sure. There was dried blood under his ear, and he seemed to have a lot of cuts and bruises.

"Stark, I'm taking her back to the Sanctum. I have enough help there to see that she's attended to." Strange's voice came as a relief to her.

"I don't believe that's wise." Stark's voice was calm and collected.

"I believe she's been under my care-"

"As of late, I've taken more care of her than you."

"What caused this incident, Stark?"

Cassie's eyes were flipping back and forth between the two men anxiously. The woman stood off to the side, her eyes unreadable as she surveyed the situation. Stark's eyes caught the woman's as well, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Perhaps...it would be better to discuss this later?"

"That's fine. Cassie's in no condition now anyway."

"That's why I think I should take her to a hospital and then back to the complex, where I can keep an eye on her behavior."

"You will not be keeping an eye on her, Stark. That will be unnecessary. As I said, I'll be taking her back to the Sanctum."

Stark's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Very well. I suppose we can part ways here. I'll be in touch, Doctor."

She watched Stark leave the scene, wanting to apologize but not sure what to say.

"Cassie, can you stand?" Strange's voice cut through her haze.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she nodded weakly. He set Cassie upon her feet, and she gazed cautiously at the other woman. Rain still dripped from the trees, smacking her in the forehead as she irritatedly wiped it away.

"You're Cassie?" The woman's voice reached her as sharp and full of suspicion.

She nodded, gazing at Strange.

"I'm Janet."

As soon as their conversation had begun, it was cut off as Strange opened a portal. He turned around and scooped her into his arms. With an exhausted sigh, she leaned into his chest, closing her eyes.

"Follow behind me, Janet."

A second later, she saw a very warm and familiar sight. Wong stood nearby, a book in his hand. He dropped it, the book falling face down on the floor. Stephen carried her forward, pushing past Wong, and helped her to sit in the nearest chair, her head lolling back against its frame.

Stephen left the room without a word, leaving Janet and Wong staring at her. Janet's eyes were more narrowed now, and she observed Cassie silently. Wong, however, moved forward and grasped her hand.

"Stephen said nothing-are you all right?"

She had met Wong on a few other occasions, and he too had tried to assist her with her powers as Stephen had. She didn't answer him, her eyes growing weak and closing of their own accord.

With a jolt of discomfort, Cassie could feel a damp cloth on her forehead. With flickering eyes, she raised her gaze to see Stephen.

"Hey, Buttercup," he smiled in a soft whisper.

She smiled despite her condition.

"Stephen, I think we'd better talk." Janet strode forward purposefully.

"Now is not the best time," he murmured without moving.

"There are a few things-"

"You shouldn't have followed me in the first place." He suddenly rounded on her, his anger blazing.

She took a step back, wide-eyed. "I was only concerned..."

Stephen opened his mouth to retort, when Cassie leaned forward and slid her hand into his own. His words died in his mouth, and he glanced back at her, biting the inside of his cheek.

"All right... I'll be right back," he conceded, helping Cassie from the chair. With a gentle hand on her back, he lead her from the room.

As soon as she saw her own bed, Cassie's knees buckled, and Strange had to lift her up, setting her on the edge of the bed frame.

"What happened?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Water..." she croaked out.

He excused himself into her bathroom with a sigh and returned a moment later, lifting a cup to her lips.

Finally, she spoke. "I didn't mean to..." She stared up at him with wide eyes.

"I know," he soothed gently, placing a hand on the side of her neck.

"But Tony...he just...he-"

"Where did you run to?" Stephen interrupted. 

"I don't know... I just-just couldn't stay-" 

"All right...well...change out of those wet clothes, and then Wong and I will see what we can do to ease your pain. I'd better go talk to Janet."

"She makes me nervous," Cassie admitted, still holding tight to Stephen's hand.

Strange gave a uncomfortable laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're telling me..."


	23. Chapter 23

"You're harboring a fugitive?"

Strange narrowly managed to close the door behind him before she fired her first accusation. The walls seemed to close in around them in the already confined space where he had brought her the first time she had arrived on the Sanctum's doorstep. He had told Wong to tend to Cassie while he explained things to Janet, though the storm raging in her eyes suggested that appeasing her might be an impossible endeavor.

"She's not a fugitive," he replied calmly but firmly, turning to face her.

"She's killed people, Stephen," Janet shot back. "What happened down the street—that was her too, wasn't it? Los Angeles?"

"I only know as much about what happened in Los Angeles as you do," he answered tightly.

What he did not say told her that her suspicions about the incident on Bleecker Street were correct. She took a step toward him, her voice lowering dangerously. "That girl is a time bomb, and you're keeping her here, in the middle of Manhattan, waiting for her to explode."

"Her name is Cassie, and she needs my help," Strange responded sternly, matching her advance. "She has powers that she doesn't understand, and I'm the only one who can teach her how to control them."

"Yeah, it looks like you're doing a great job so far." Janet's voice dripped with sarcasm, and he clenched his hands in an effort to conceal their violent trembling.

"It was never my intention for her to go to the Avengers. Stark can't even handle his own affairs right now. The Sokovia Accords are a simplistic solution to a complicated problem. They were never going to work."

"People have to be held accountable for their actions," she countered.

"Cassie stays here," he persisted, refusing to back down. "End of discussion."

She glared up at him, lips pressed tightly together. Never before had she seen Stephen Strange so blinded by his emotions. She couldn't understand it, but then, slowly, it dawned on her.

"Oh..." she murmured, "I get it."

"Get what?"

Her eyes glittered scathingly as his brow furrowed in confusion. "You've fallen for her. You're even living with her. I never expected this from you, but now it all makes sense. I guess I should congratulate her for achieving the impossible. She managed to make you stick around."

"You misunderstand," he objected, regaining his composure. "Cassie is my apprentice. She's not my—"

"No need to explain yourself to me, Stephen," Janet interrupted coolly. "Your private affairs are not my concern, but this city is. Above all else, my job is to make it grow, to help its people excel, and to protect it from any and all potential threats to its security."

"This entire planet is under my protection," he growled. "Do you seriously think that I don't understand the stakes?"

"Fine," she said flatly. "Keep her here, if you want. But know that there is nothing stopping me from turning both of you in."

His jaw clenched, a flicker of fear passing over his features—not for himself, she realized, but for the girl taking refuge in his Sanctum.

"Be reasonable, Janet," Strange entreated, taking on a milder tone. "She's scared and alone. She has no one else to turn to. Please, I'm asking you not to do this."

She laughed bitterly, her mirthless smile swiftly replaced by a stone-cold glower. "Reasonable? Why should I treat you reasonably when you have failed to offer me the same courtesy?"

Sighing, he closed his eyes and then slowly opened them. "Because you care, Janet. You always cared, even when I didn't. When I was selfish and arrogant and callous, you told me that you were going to be a scientist because you wanted to help people. You wanted it for all the right reasons, and I was so lost. Please, give Cassie a chance."

Her illusion shattered. Her facade of disdainful indifference fell away, revealing for one brief moment the broken woman beneath. She turned her back on him, refusing to let him see her like this. She was weak—weak and foolish. Shutting her eyes tight, Janet kept the tears that burned behind her closed lids in check. What right did he have to appeal to her humanity?

Suddenly, she felt his hand settle upon her shoulder. She recognized it. It was strong yet gentle, but the memories it brought to the surface caused her nothing but pain and torment. Though she had once known his touch so well, now it was foreign to her, and it sent a jolt of fear through her chest. Shrugging him off, Janet faced him. He was close—too close. She swallowed, watching his hand fall back to his side. Then she met his gaze.

Something had changed. His features had become softer, his expression kind—affectionate, even. A previously hidden longing had become visible in his eyes, though it was riddled with uncertainty. It caused a long-forgotten fluttering sensation in her stomach, made her heart beat faster, and that terrified her.

Averting her gaze, Janet moved abruptly past him and stopped near the door. Squaring her shoulders, she tried desperately to collect her thoughts. This was just a ploy to persuade her to keep his secret. It had to be. She couldn't let him get to her. She had to keep her distance.

"A favor for a favor," she said finally, glancing back at him. "The authorities will learn nothing from me. In return, the next time I'm assigned a mission that calls for backup of the magical variety, you will assist me."

Relieved, Stephen smiled. "You've got it."

The decision she had come to surprised even herself, and Janet released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "Good."

Turning, she opened the door and walked quickly through the adjacent room. She did not even bother to look at Wong as she passed him, keeping her eyes low as she made her way to the entry hall. She could not leave the Sanctum fast enough.

"One young woman is behind all of this destruction... Ironic, that she wields so much power but is incapable of controlling it. Is she an Inhuman?"

"I don't know," Janet replied, hands clasped behind her back.

Norman Osborn stood silhouetted against the wall of windows in his office at the pinnacle of Oscorp Tower. "She could be useful to us, if she has not already been too thoroughly indoctrinated by the righteous doctor. Still, significant strides must first be made. We cannot afford any incidents on our part while we wage the war to bring down S.H.I.E.L.D. We would be painted as hypocrites, just like them."

Her eyes darted to his back as he gazed through the panes of illuminated glass. He wanted to recruit more Inhumans? Wanted to turn them into weapons? He was currently accusing Director Mace of doing exactly that.

"How goes the war, sir?" she inquired, having been quite removed from the daily activities of Oscorp since her latest assignment had begun.

"Quite well," he said, and though she could not see his face, she knew that he was smiling. "The tide of public opinion is turning against them. In fact, Director Mace has not made a public appearance in some time. It appears that he has gone into hiding until they can develop a more effective strategy.

"In the meantime," he added, turning to face her, "stay close to Doctor Strange. His assistance has proven invaluable thus far, and it has brought us within reach of the Darkhold. Judging by the information you have just delivered to me, it seems that this book may hold the key to our salvation. We will make our move soon, Janet, and we will be victorious. Train. Train hard. Prepare yourself for battle. I doubt that the good doctor will be willing to just hand it over to you."

She swallowed, her knees suddenly threatening to buckle. He wanted her to steal the Darkhold, just as she had feared. He wanted her to simply walk in to the Sanctum Sanctorum and take an extremely powerful relic from the hands of Doctor Strange himself. This would be the most difficult task she had ever undertaken. He was right. She needed more training, but beyond that, she needed more power—a lot more.

"I trust that you are capable of achieving this?" Norman prodded, his eyes glittering in the dark. "I would hate to let Jack get the glory, especially after you've done all of the work to ensure that this mission is a success."

Janet nodded firmly, more determined than ever to prove him right. "Yes, sir. I will not fail you."


	24. Chapter 24

Her eyes watched the fan blades above-round and round and round. Pulling his college sweatshirt tighter around herself, she shivered, wet hair soaking through her pillow. 'Harboring a fugitive...' She'd heard the whole conversation, and she couldn't very well stay with him now. Cassie couldn't put Stephen at risk. What if Janet changed her mind?

The door slid open with a creak, and Wong stuck his head in, checking to see if she was awake. Her eyes traveled over his face before she turned her head, staring at the far wall.

"Cassie? Is there anything I can do?"

With a heavy swallow, she shook her head.

"Doctor Strange said he'd like to speak with you...if you're feeling up to it."

"I suppose."

She waited anxiously till Stephen entered her room. His face revealed his relief, and she knew Janet's concession was what made him smile.

Strange approached her and reached down, helping her to sit, with a hand under her knees. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and she tried to return his smile. He grinned and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You get cleaned up?"

With a wordless nod, she stared at the sheets.

"Wong gave you my sweatshirt?"

Again, she merely nodded.

"How bad is the pain, Cassie?"

"It's fine."

His smile fell, and he grimaced, reaching forward and placing a hand under her neck. Still, she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Either you're in a lot of pain...or you're upset?"

Cassie remained silent, unsure what to say. A heavy sigh left his lips as he struggled to find something to say.

"I'm sorry, Cassie."

Her eyes jumped back to his, surprised. "Why didn't you return my calls?" she murmured softly.

Guilt clouded his eyes for a moment. "Cassie there've been things going on, and I didn't have-"

"You-you didn't have time for me?" she stuttered, throat clenching.

"No, Cassie-not that. It's just-"

"You took the key..."

Uncomfortably, he rubbed the back of his neck. There was a long, reigning silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat and stood, pacing to the far side of the room, near the window. "Cassie...I thought it would be better to give you some space. Thor assured me that-"

"What if I needed you though?"

"I'm not your guardian. You're a grown adult," he snapped unexpectedly.

Her words died in her throat. "I-I know..."

The flutter of her voice surprised him, and he turned, gaze softened. "I'm sorry... I am. I know-I know it was harsh." His eyes grew wide, and he took two steps forward, placing his hands on her shoulders as she tried to sit. "No. No you're not." Gently, he forced her back into the bed.

"Stephen...I just...I'm getting the hang of...of...this," she held out her hands, as though that would explain, "and I just think-"

"Getting the hang of it is not the same thing as mastering it, Cassie."

"But I-"

"No. You're my responsibility..."

"I'm a grown adult, Stephen," she retorted back to him.

"You know you need my help."

"I'm not asking to...to...have you ignore me again. I'm just-just not going to stay here."

"Why?" His eyes were pleading with her.

She shook off his grasp and exhaled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Well, like you said...you're busy...with big, important stuff apparently."

"Cass-"

"No, Stephen. I know you're working with...with whatever her name was, and I don't need to be in the way anyway."

"Cassie, listen-"

"Besides, I'd rather do anything but focus on my...abilities right now. Anything but think about them."

Stephen didn't say anything. His eyes were focused on her, however. "Where will you stay?"

"I've got a place...an apartment."

Slowly, she placed her bare feet on the floor and tried to stand. Her legs threatened to give out, and Stephen suddenly stepped forward, catching her by the arm. With a jab of pain in her gut, Cassie clenched her abdomen, resting her forehead on his chest.

"You can't even walk right now," he murmured into her ear.

"It was just a second of pain," she protested. Pulling away with a grimace, she stuffed her hands into the sweatshirt.

"All right, Cassie. But please, call me. We can't afford another accident. Things are happening, and if Stark decides that he won't put up with you anymore...well, there are many different people who could easily detain or dispose of you. So, if things aren't going well...or you need me, I promise I'll answer."

She smiled weakly and nodded.

"Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out her cellphone. "Stark found it. He also managed to grab a couple of your books from the wreckage. They're by the door."

She nodded gratefully, taking her phone.

"Keep the sweatshirt."

She glanced down at the sweatpants and sweatshirt Wong had given her. A smile crossed her face, and she inched forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He didn't say anything, and finally, he pulled away, nodding toward the door. Quickly, she gathered her wet clothes and shoes and walked to the door, not stopping to look at Stephen. Wong stood in the hallway, but she didn't speak to him either, determined to leave.

Cold air hit her face, and the concrete was wet beneath her feet. With shaky hands, she dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"Steve?"

"Cassie?!"

"Yeah...I-I need a ride."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...but please just...just meet me outside my school."

"All right."

She heard the hesitation in his voice before he hung up. Biting the inside of her cheek, she stared at the screen. 1:05 am. And Steve was still willing to come pick her up.

Cassie smiled at Steve, waiting for his cute, boyish smile. Instead, he merely grimaced. He approached quickly, placing both hands on her shoulders but not making eye contact. His eyes roamed the area. For what, she wasn't sure.

"Steve?" she prompted.

Briefly, he held her gaze, and then his eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

She blushed, nodding. His fingers slid under her eye to a large, swelling bruise.

"Cassie...where is he? What did he do to you?"

"Huh?"

Your date? Where is he?"

"Oh...no...no, I-I-didn't go on the date."

His face scrunched in confusion, and he slid his fingers down her arm to her hand, observing the cuts along her arm. "So he didn't hurt you? What happened?"

"I-um, well-" Her eyes lowered to the ground, and Steve observed her quietly.

"Cassie?"

"I-I lost control." She felt his grip tighten on her hand, and shame began to overwhelm her.

"You what? Like Bleecker Street?"

She nodded wordlessly, ashamed.

"Cassie, I'm so sorry..."

His words caught her off guard, and she glanced up, eyes wide with surprise. She found nothing but sincerity in his.

"Come on."


	25. Chapter 25

_The door clanged shut, the sound reverberating through the high-ceilinged room that lay beyond. Machines clicked and hummed, researchers in white lab coats proceeding calmly and rhythmically through each stage of their experiments. As Janet entered the room, her eyes swept over them, ensuring the exactness of their operations. Everything was, of course, to be conducted according to her specifications._

 _"Miss Carlisle!" a man with round-rimmed glasses exclaimed in surprise as he caught sight of her._

 _"Jenkins," she responded with a curt nod. "What have you learned?"_

 _The scientist wrung his hands as his head swiveled in the direction of the translucent crystals that rested on a pedestal on the other side of the glass. "They are…extraordinary. None of us have dared to touch them, of course, but the knowledge we have gained from external studies alone has taught us so much about their chemistry and how the Kree used them to genetically modify other organisms."_

 _"Have you compiled your notes?" she inquired, stepping forward so as to observe the alien objects more closely._

 _"Not yet," he replied with some anxiety, "but we are in the process of organizing them at this very moment. You will be able to peruse them at your leisure by this time tomorrow."_

 _"Good." Janet crossed her arms, admiring how the light gleamed off of the crystals' flawless sides._

 _"Would you…like to have a closer look at them?" he offered tentatively._

 _Raising an eyebrow, she cast him a sidelong glance._

 _"Some of us have dared to venture to the other side of the glass," Jenkins explained. "We've handled them with gloves and have encountered no difficulties, no unpleasant side effects."_

 _Her interest was piqued, curiosity compelling her to accept. For weeks, she had been circling them, impatiently awaiting the results of each test. The Terrigen Crystals could change everything. They were the key to unlocking the next stage of human development. Of that, she was certain. If the mutations to human genes could be controlled…_

 _"Miss Carlisle?"_

 _Startled from her thoughts, she looked at the scientist, who was watching her with a hint of concern. Slowly, Janet lowered her arms to her sides. "Open the door."_

 _"Right away," he nodded, springing into action._

 _The team of technicians stepped back from their work and laid down their tools as Jenkins moved to a nearby console and began pressing keys in rapid succession. There was a loud click, and the door on her left hissed as it retracted into the wall. She took a deep breath, anticipation building inside her. This was the moment she had been waiting for._

 _Advancing through the opening with measured strides, Janet became aware of the fact that the room had fallen utterly silent. Each step she made bounced off the metallic walls, every pair of eyes fixed upon her. Unconsciously, she flexed her gloved hands, her white coat swishing about her legs as she moved toward the centrally located pedestal._

 _She could almost…hear them. The crystals were thrumming with an energy signature that was entirely foreign. They were, after all, not of this world. Despite all that she had learned of them in recent weeks, however, Janet was surprised by how…alive they felt. Each one was unique, having a voice of its own. Like a series of musical notes, they sang together in perfect harmony._

 _She found herself reaching out, fingers extended, yearning, almost close enough to touch—_

 _Hiss._

 _Whirling around, Janet saw the door close behind her, heard its distinctive click as it sealed. Her breath caught, her chest tightening. She ran to the glass._

 _"What are you doing?" she demanded furiously._

 _Her subordinates stared back at her, some faces wracked with guilt, others twisted with sick satisfaction. They could not hear her—the glass was soundproof—and Jenkins ignored her completely. He was still pressing keys._

 _While her back was turned, the pedestal descended through an opening in the floor, which swiftly closed as soon as the crystals vanished. Janet spun to see them entirely gone, and she turned back to the glass, pounding her fist against it._

 _"Open these doors immediately, or I swear that all of you will be leaving this tower in handcuffs! This is your last chance! Open them now!"_

 _Her threats fell upon deaf ears, and as Jenkins' index finger lingered upon the last key, he glanced up and met her eyes. His lips curled into a wicked sneer, and her face fell. There was a strange hiss somewhere beneath her. She stepped back, eyes frantically searching the floor, but she saw nothing._

 _Slowly, silently, tendrils of smoke began to emerge from the vents. Curling upwards, they snaked around her ankles. A strange gray mist engulfed her, its coolness seeping into her skin. Janet gasped for air, heart pounding against her chest, so loud that it throbbed inside her ears._

 _"No," she moaned, realizing what was happening. "No!"_

 _She ran to the glass once more, striking it with her fists until they were bruised and swelling._

 _"You don't know what they will do! You don't know! Please! I don't want to die! Please!"_

 _Her voice was hoarse and strangled, tears streaming down her face as she felt it coming—the transformation. It started with a prickling sensation at the tips of her fingers. She pushed back against it, the effort causing her to double over in pain._

 _"No…I won't. I…"_

 _She screamed, collapsing as a searing fire began to coarse through every fiber of her being. Still, she fought, refusing to let it change her, refusing to become one of them. If she could not control it, then she wanted no part of it._

 _"Jack!" she shrieked. "Norman!"_

 _Her cries for help went unanswered, and an unearthly cocoon began to take shape, binding her, suffocating her. She was buried alive. She could see nothing but darkness, an infinite void, and she began to wonder if she was dead. The sound of her own screams died away, and she was left with nothing but silence. Paralyzed, she was unable to fight physically any longer, and fear was choking her._

 _So many times, she had felt afraid. So many times, she had felt alone. For so long, she had no one to turn to. But then, when life was at its worst, when she could no longer trust even her own family, he had shown up. He was there for her, always, until he was not._

 _"Stephen…"_

 _A strangled sob escaped her throat. She was curled in a ball on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Lying there in the dark, alone, for what seemed like an eternity, her heart hardened. Even when she thought she was staving off the otherworldly powers that threatened to overtake her, her spirit was corrupted. In that moment, more clearly than ever before, she understood that there was no one who could save her but herself. She would fight, as long and as fiercely as necessary, to rid herself of this infection, this disease, that sought to subvert everything that made her human._

Armored from head to toe in Oscorp's finest, Janet looked down at her hands as she pulled on gloves that stretched the length of her forearms. Her AR helmet had been repaired and improved, the damages dealt to her battlesuit by the Ghost Rider no longer visible. A black hood shrouded her already masked face in even greater shadow, mirroring the black emptiness she felt as she prepared to face the only man she had ever loved in potentially lethal combat.

Every time she was given an assignment, every time she was authorized to kill, the memory of her transformation became glaringly prominent in her mind's eye. For years, she had hated the powers that were bestowed upon her without her consent. She had resented them, hated them, even after she had slain the men and women who had committed this vile crime against her. Vengeance had not healed the wound. Instead, it had done nothing but render it larger and more inescapable than before. Now that she had been forced to come face to face with this inevitability, Janet had decided to embrace it.

Why shouldn't she, after all, when she now had the ability to dispose of anyone who stood in her way, in Oscorp's way, in Norman's way? Shame would not get her anywhere, but power would. And after tonight, the Darkhold, the very embodiment of power, would be in her grasp.

A week had passed since she had last set foot in the Sanctum, since she had shown inexcusable weakness in allowing Strange to keep the girl. What madness had overtaken her, that she had agreed to such a thing? Yes, it had rendered him in her debt, but to what end? Was it truly worth giving up the alternative?

Grimacing, she reminded herself to focus. Now was not the time to be questioning herself. It was done. There was no changing it now.

If all went as planned, she would be in and out of the Sanctum before Strange or his apprentice even knew she was there. But Janet was fully aware of the fact that things rarely went according to plan. She intended to avoid killing her former lover if at all possible, though Norman had given her permission to if she was provided with no other alternative. The girl, however—she was expendable.

Refusing to dwell on the matter that she was reluctant to do away with Strange despite the fact that he was supposed to be no more than a means to an end, Janet reached out with one hand and moved it rapidly in a circular motion. Dark energy swirled out of thin air, purple sparks flying as a portal formed—a new trick she had learned by observing Strange. Beyond, she could see rows upon rows of tall bookcases, just as she had envisioned.

Lowering her hand, Janet took a deep breath, steeling herself. If she was caught, removing the Darkhold from Strange's grasp would be no simple task. In fact, it was likely to become the most difficult challenge she had ever undertaken. She was both excited and unsettled by the prospect.

Deciding that there was no more time to waste and that continuing to ruminate on the potential consequences of her mission would only make it more difficult, Janet stepped forward and entered the portal. The white polished floors of Oscorp Tower slipped out from beneath her, replaced by patterned mahogany, and in a matter of seconds, her new surroundings stabilized around her. The border of the gateway continued to crackle and shimmer as she moved quickly to the nearest desk, its purple light flickering upon the dark walls.

Relieved to find the Darkhold exactly as she had last seen it, Janet breathed a sigh of relief as she reached down and grasped its leather-bound cover with both hands. Moonlight spilled through the windows and across its raised letters, which glittered invitingly when she looked at them. But there was no time to admire it now. She had to get out of here before—

"Put the book down—now."

Slowly, she raised her head, recognizing the voice's owner instantly. The tall, robed silhouette of Stephen Strange loomed in the doorway, and her blood ran cold. She could not speak, could not attempt to stall him—he would know her voice in an instant. Instead, she straightened, tucked the Darkhold under one arm, and prepared to flee.

"This is your last warning. I won't ask again."

His arms were extended, his hands at chest height, ready to cast a spell. She had to move now. Launching herself forward, Janet made a mad dash for her portal. It was so close, just out of reach, and then—

Smack! There was a blinding flash of green light that sent her careening sideways. Her body collided with the wall, the book tumbling from her grasp, and her concentration was broken. The gateway closed. Unbeknownst to Janet, her I.C.E.R., too, was dislodged from her belt and clattered to the floor, sliding several yards out of reach. Her hands clenched into fists as she pushed herself upright. Strange was advancing. All right, Stephen, she thought angrily, you want a fight? You've got one.

An entire bookshelf was lifted into the air, its contents spilling onto the floor, and then it was thrown with vicious ferocity. Strange barely raised his arms in time to shield his face from the blow, and the impact sent him sliding across the floor on his back. The bookshelf splintered into pieces that scattered in all directions when it struck him, and Janet used the opportunity to scramble to her feet, book tucked under her arm once again.

There was no time to open another portal, so she ran from the library and into the adjoining hallway. She had not made it far, however, when a fiery whip caught around her ankle and sent her sprawling. Crying out in pain, Janet flipped onto her back just as Strange descended upon her. Thrusting both arms upward, she summoned a burst of umbrakinetic energy that flung him against the ceiling. As he hit the floor with a resounding thud, she managed to right herself and resume her flight.

She raced through a number of long, maze-like corridors, down a set of stairs, and finally came to the large balcony situated on the far side of the massive entry chamber. She was just beginning to think she had escaped him as she left the remaining stairs behind her and headed for the front doors. However, her path was suddenly blocked when he landed in front of her, cloak flying.

"Going somewhere?" he taunted, raising an eyebrow.

His hands flew through a series of gestures, and Janet narrowly managed to conjure a barrier before several flaming projectiles were sent her way. They exploded in brilliant flashes of light when they collided with the shadowy shield she had summoned, but her defenses held. The projectiles disintegrated, and Strange was already moving on to his next method of attack. A blazing disk formed around each of his hands, sparking with fiery energy, and he hurled one of them directly at her head. Shifting her barrier just in time, Janet deflected the blow, only to realize that he was simultaneously charging toward her with his remaining weapon.

Strange caught the returning disk as he leapt into the air, and she flung both arms out to her sides, converting her shield into a staff. Upon landing, he unleashed a flurry of swift, precise strikes that took her by surprise, and a sharp kick to her gut caused her to stagger. Siphoning energy from the lights that glowed along the walls, Janet plunged the room into complete darkness, propelling herself into the air and flipping over his head. Thrusting her staff between his shoulder blades, she sent him stumbling forward, off balance.

Strange recovered quickly, however, turning and summoning another whip, which snapped as it struck her staff and was repelled. Was this all he had? Sprinting to the nearest wall, she sprang into the air, her steps carrying her along the vertical surface as easily as if she were taking a leisurely stroll along a correctly oriented sidewalk. Umbrakinetic energy swirled around her, stemming from the core of her being while drawing upon the resources of her environment. Levitating until his feet were far from the ground, Strange hovered there, sending a storm of electric projectiles her way.

Dodging and ducking, Janet managed to avoid most of them, but one that had escaped her notice suddenly hit her right leg. A yelp of pain escaped her throat as she staggered, then fell. The world was spinning, upside down. Then she hit the floor. Groaning, she struggled to stand.

"Let's find out who you really are," she heard him say.

No! Instinctively, Janet's hand flew to her belt, but the I.C.E.R. was gone. Rising onto one knee, she struck out blindly, but he deflected her poorly aimed punch with ease. She couldn't let him find out who she was. If he did, then her mission was over. If he did, Norman would see her as an utter failure. She had no choice. She had to do something!

As Strange bent to seize her, Janet slipped her dagger from the sheath that was strapped to her left thigh. His hands were inches from her helmet, preparing to unmask her. Impulsively, she plunged the blade into his stomach, pain tearing through her as she heard his startled gasp. He collapsed against her, and she caught him, unwilling to let him fall. Slowly, carefully, she lowered him to the floor, his wide eyes burning a hole through her heart.

Tears were welling behind her cold, faceless mask, blinding her. She wanted nothing more than to tell him how sorry she was, but she couldn't. He would not die, she kept telling herself, as long as help arrived in time. Standing reluctantly, Janet turned and ran to where the Darkhold lay. Gathering it in her arms, she limped to the doors as quickly as she could manage and slipped out into the night.


	26. Chapter 26

Cassie brushed the hair from her face, eyes focused on the mirror. She felt different. Somehow, with everything that had happened, Cassie knew that she was stronger.

There was a knock, and Wanda stuck her head inside the doorframe. "Cassie? There's someone at the door for you."

Cassie gave a last, determined look into the mirror and followed Wanda from the room. Her tall black boots clicked across the floor, and her eyes surveyed the room.

"Jonathon."

A young man, early thirties, stood in the doorway. His eyes were desperate, and he had his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. "Cassie."

She didn't need to ask what he was doing there.

"May I please ask you to reconsider?" he implored.

"No, Jonathon. I cannot explain this, but I need you to understand."

The man sighed deeply and gazed around the room.

"Jonathon, I'm sorry. I know this isn't fair to you."

"No, it's not," he suddenly spat angrily.

"But please-"

"Cassie, these children are counting on you."

"Jonathon, please-"

"You could cost me my job, dealing with things like this. Now, with all that's been happening with the school board, to lose my-"

"Jonathon, stop. You'll be fine. I promise. You're good at what you do."

He sighed and then extended his hand forward. "Well, then good luck. I'm sorry that your time with us could not last longer," he smiled weakly.

"Thank you."

As he turned to go, Steve entered the doorway, blocking the man's path out.

"Oh...um...excuse me," Jonathon mumbled with wide eyes.

Cassie bit her lip to stop her muffled laughter at the surprised look on both of their faces. "Bye, Jonathon!" she called as Steve shut the door.

At first, he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Who was that? The date you canceled on?"

"No, Steve. He's the principal of my school."

Steve looked up and smiled, then paused. "You look beautiful..."

A rose colored blush filled her cheeks, and she smiled. "Thank you, Steve."

Wanda glanced at the two of them with a raised eyebrow before excusing herself from the room.

Cassie wore a floral-printed black dress that fell above her knees and tall black boots.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, moving toward the couch to drop his jacket and bag.

"I have a few appointments today..."

"I see. Date tonight?" he asked, back to her.

"Steve?"

He rounded to face her curiously.

"I didn't have a date... I-I made that up."

His brow creased, and he rubbed the back of his neck momentarily. "Why?"

"I was...with Tony Stark."

Steve straightened defensively, and his jaw set. "Why?"

"He's offered to help me."

"I don't know that you should trust him, Cassie."

"I know...I know that."

He glanced around the room for a moment before nodding stiffly.

"I understand that the two of you don't always see eye to eye... He made that clear," she coughed uncomfortably.

"How often do you see him?" Steve murmured, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There are no set times... It's just-"

"Regular."

"Fairly."

The silence lingered for slightly too long.

"Steve, I-I'm going to cancel on him today though."

"I see."

"Don't be angry. You've done a lot for me..." she murmured.

His gaze softened, and he moved forward, stopping in front of her. "Cassie, I only want you to know...that if you needed me...I'll be there to help you. Okay?"

A blush was rising in her cheeks-he was standing close. He let his fingers brush her own, and a stone dropped into her stomach, her lips parting.

"Th-thanks."

He leaned a little closer, curling his fingers around hers.

"Steve?"

Wanda's voice could be heard from down the hall, and he started suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Could you come look at this for a second?"

His jaw tensed as he stared reluctantly into Cassie's eyes before turning away. "Coming."

He left the room, and Cassie released the breath she'd been holding in. Turning, she grabbed her purse and quickly left the apartment.

 **************

"Tony."

"Cassie?"

"Yes, I'd like to speak to you. Would it be possible to do that today?"

"I suppose so. I can pick you up in an hour."

"Okay. I'll meet you wherever is most convenient."

"That coffee shop."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Stark."

She hung up and stared at her cell phone. She'd never told Stephen that she'd agreed to help him, but she figured that he knew now. Cassie didn't want to disappoint Tony, but after what had happened, she didn't believe that she would be able to work with him again.

 **************

"Get in."

He pushed open her door, and she climbed in beside him. There was a driver this time, a man she didn't recognize. Cassie's throat constricted at the sight of Tony. His face was black and blue with a swollen nose and a cut under his eye.

"I'm fine." He waved a hand at her, knowing what she was thinking, "You don't look so great either."

Self-consciously, she raised a hand to her ear.

"You wanted to talk?" he asked, clasping his hands together.

"Yes...well, you see...I needed to tell you that..." She looked up uncertainly. Something felt off.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"That-that um...I can't work with you anymore."

"I believe that we had a deal, did we not?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, but I-"

"And you knew that there were repercussions to not following this deal?"

"Tony, I-"

"And you agreed, correct?"

Her skin paled as she looked into his calm, cold eyes. "I'd like to get out."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." He smiled slightly.

"Stark, I'll-"

"You'll what?" he prompted again.

She pulled her cellphone from her pocket and dialed Stephen's number.

"You don't want to call Stephen."

"Of course I do. You won't let me out of the car." Her voice shook with fear at the calculated look he gave her.

"I'm afraid Stephen can't help you. You see...we have orders against you, Miss Powell."

"O-orders against me?"

"Well, you've killed a number of people now."

"I didn't think anyone was killed at the last-"

"It was close."

Her lip trembled at the realization of what was happening. "I-I can make the car stop."

"Will you though?" he sneered.

"I-I will!"

"Sit back, Cassie. Stephen can't come to your rescue. In fact, by calling him, by having him become involved, you'll put him in danger with the government."

Cassie stared down at her phone and realized that she'd gotten his voicemail anyway. Meekly, she raised it to her ear. "Sorry to bother you, Stephen. Everything's fine...just wanted to talk."

As she hung up the call, Tony held out his hand. "Let me see that."

"No," she replied firmly.

"Let me see it."

Their eyes were locked, and Cassie felt panic overcoming her. Her breathing quickened, and she felt everything coming to a peak. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and as Tony reached forward to grab her cellphone, she bit her lip, afraid of hurting him. As he pried it from her clenched fingers, he placed a hand on her cheek.

"Now calm down."

The car swerved to the left as Cassie screamed, the windows bursting. Tony covered his head as the driver slumped forward against the steering wheel. The car slammed into a concrete barrier, and Cassie blinked a daze from her eyes.

Something was different. She was in control. Power surged through her fingertips, and a smile rose to her lips. She pried open her door and stepped out into the street, where cars had slammed to a halt and passengers filled the road. No one was hurt this time.

Turning around to look at Tony, she saw him, dazed and bleeding and speaking into his phone. Suddenly, she felt her body hit the concrete with a sickening crack. Crying out in pain, she crumpled to the ground. Everything sounded like a faint buzzing in her ears as she heard sirens and screams.

"All right. Time to get up," she heard Tony's voice say behind her.

She was sure that something was broken. Gently, she was rolled onto her back, and Cassie realized that he was looking up into the mask of Spider-Man.

"Oh geez..." he muttered.

She was gasping for air, which came in scattered breaths. Spider-Man gently tried to lift her in his arms, and she grimaced, clenching her teeth.

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard..."

"It's all right, kid," she heard Tony's voice say. "She had to be subdued."

"What's happening now, Tony?" she hissed angrily.

"You're going to come back to the complex. You're going to do as we say," he whispered, keeping his voice soft because of the onlookers.

Spider-Man let her rest her feet on the concrete. Cassie knew in that moment that she could stop this. She could feel the control. But still, fear held her in check. Fear for the innocent people around her.

"Fine."


	27. Chapter 27

What had she done? Dragging her weary limbs into the silence of her apartment, Janet's head hung low. Everything was spinning. She felt dizzy. As the door closed behind her, she took several steps forward, then collapsed. On her hands and knees, a violent sob tore through her.

Her helmet had been cast aside, her hood thrown back. But the dagger was still in its sheath. Janet could not bear to look at it, could not consider what might have happened. She hadn't meant to. She was only trying to—

A strangled cry escaped her throat, and she pressed her clenched fist against her rib cage. She could still feel the blood there. It remained warm and damp to the touch, even after she had returned to Oscorp Tower, delivered the _Darkhold_ to Norman, then traveled back to her residence. It was his blood—Stephen's blood. The image of him lying there, his robes stained a deep crimson, was seared into her brain.

Surely there was something else she could have done? An alternative? Anything else. Her adrenaline, her desperation, had gotten the better of her. And now he might be dead. Stephen might be dead, and there was nothing she could do. She had nearly dialed 911 herself, but then, if he recovered, Strange would have known that it was her.

With a shaking hand, Janet reached back and slowly drew the dagger. Its red blade glinted in the moonlight that streamed through the windows, and the mere sight of it caused her to experience a sudden wave of nausea. Rage and guilt swelled inside her, shredding every last bit of pride she had expected to feel upon returning with the _Darkhold_ in hand. It was nothing, all for nothing, if he was gone.

Why did she care so much? Even after what he had done to her? How could she still—? How could she—? Janet could not bring herself to finish the thought. A scream erupted from the depths of her being as she flung the dagger across the room, embedding its blade deep into the far wall. Never had triumph felt so empty, or victory so meaningless.

When she finally summoned the strength to stand and stumble down the hall to her bedroom, Janet tore off her bloodstained suit and made her way into the bathroom. The light stung her eyes, and she grimaced, squinting. She stood there for a long while, dazed and shivering. Slowly, reluctantly, she dared to glimpse her reflection, and she saw a ghost with hollow eyes gazing back at her.

Shutting her eyes, Janet turned away and moved to the shower. If only it wasn't real. If only this was all just a dream. She could pretend it was—just for a little while. Hot water splashed over her shoulders, laughter bouncing off the walls. She could still hear it, like it had only been yesterday, and when she closed her eyes, it was like she was there.

 _Skates scraped against ice, a chilly October wind whipping across the crowded rink. Central Park was alive with music and laughter and a city of lights all around them. She admired the towering structures, black against the evening sky, their rows upon rows of glowing windows forming a grid of multi-colored pinpricks that were dazzling to behold. Janet grinned from ear to ear, a shiver running through her as she skirted the edge of the wall that encircled the rink._

 _"'_ _Soldier Of This Fashion', 1985," said a voice beside her._

 _With a frustrated sigh, she glanced his way. "Is there any song you don't know?"_

 _"Probably not," Stephen smirked, his eyes twinkling._

 _"Just wait," she insisted. "I'll get the next one."_

 _"The score is currently ten to three," he reminded her. "You've got quite the comeback to make."_

 _"You know, most guys would let the girl win on the first date," Janet countered with a raised eyebrow._

 _He shrugged. "I'm not most guys. Besides, I know you'd never want me to go easy on you."_

 _"You're right," she admitted. "I wouldn't."_

 _Stephen laughed, amused by her fiercely competitive nature, and she struggled to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Around and around they went, and as the night wore on, the crowd began to thin._

 _"'Maniac'! Michael Sembello, 1983!" Janet exclaimed triumphantly before the words could leave his lips._

 _"Oh come on, that was an easy one." His tone was dismissive, but she could tell that she was starting to get to him._

 _"Thirteen to nine!" she announced cheerfully. "You nervous yet?"_

 _"Not in the slightest."_

 _And so their challenge persisted. Janet refused to concede, and he continued to indulge her. It only ended when the music stopped and they found themselves alone at the center of the rink._

 _"Wait—that's not fair!" she objected. "I was so close…"_

 _"It was an admirable effort," Stephen remarked with an infuriatingly smug grin, "but it was '80s night. I know that stuff like the back of my hand."_

 _"Don't talk to me," she scowled, crossing her arms and deliberately avoiding his gaze._

 _"Come on, Jan," he implored, skating closer, "don't be like that. We had fun, didn't we?"_

 _Reluctantly, she glanced up at him. "Maybe. A little."_

 _"Considering that we're the last ones here, I'd say it went well."_

 _His keen gaze swept over their surroundings before returning to rest on her, and she felt a sudden flutter, like butterflies in her stomach. Locks of dark hair brushed the right side of his forehead, displaced by a gentle breeze, his aquamarine eyes shining in the semidarkness._

 _"As far as first dates go," Janet confessed, "not too shabby."_

 _"Does this mean that there will be a rematch?" His voice was low, and he had moved closer._

 _Her mind told her to make some kind of clever retort, but her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest, and her legs had suddenly turned to jelly. "I'd like that," she managed, her reply emerging as scarcely more than a whisper._

 _Their gazes were locked, their bodies drifting steadily nearer. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Reaching up, Stephen cupped her cheek with his hand as his other arm slid around her waist, drawing her to him. His touch was warm and gentle, its heat spreading all the way down to the tips of her toes. As Janet tilted her face up toward his, he leaned in, his lips inches from hers._

 _What happened next was a blur. The edge of his left skate caught on her right, both of them instantly losing their balance. With a startled cry, she toppled backwards. Stephen's arms shot out to catch himself and to prevent the entirety of his weight from landing on top of her. The back of her forearms and elbows absorbed the brunt of the impact, her ribs and back hitting the ice next. Janet was able to prevent her head from striking the unforgiving surface, but she anticipated that a number of bruises would be decorating her body over the next twenty-four hours._

 _"Did you do that on purpose?" she groaned with undisguised sarcasm._

 _Grimacing, he gave a short laugh. "If I said that I did, would it be more romantic?"_

 _"Probably not," she replied with a smirk._

 _His eyes met hers, a moment of silence passing between them. Slowly, her smile faded, and she summoned her courage._

 _"Stephen?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _Reaching up with both hands, Janet took hold of his jacket and pulled him down, her lips colliding with his. He did not resist, instead leaning into her kiss and reciprocating it. Behind her closed lids, the rest of the world grew dim. Nothing else existed. There was only him. Still clutching the black leather between her fingers, she felt her fear and uncertainty dwindling away. His kiss was slow and soft and deliberate while maintaining an electrifying intensity that stole her breath away._

 _When at last their lips parted, Janet opened her eyes and met his gaze, which was filled with a tender affection that was unfamiliar to her. No one had ever looked at her that way before. Shifting his weight to his right side, Stephen winced, and her brow furrowed in concern._

 _"What's wrong?"_

 _Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he cradled his left arm gingerly in his lap as she propped herself on her elbows. "Uh, would now be a good time to tell you that I think I sprained my wrist?"_

 _"What?" she exclaimed, bolting upright. "Stephen, why didn't you say something?"_

 _"Didn't want to ruin the moment. Besides," he smiled, eyes twinkling, "it was worth it."_

 _Janet blushed, flattered but guilty. "Was it? Didn't you tell me that you have a rotation at the hospital tomorrow?"_

 _"Yeah," he admitted, glancing down at his injury, "but don't worry about it. I'll work something out with Doctor Monaghan. I'm already on course to finish early, so it won't be a problem."_

 _"Are you sure?" she pressed._

 _Laughing, Stephen shook his head. "I told you, Janet, it'll be fine. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. Now, would you mind helping me up? It's a little difficult with one arm."_

 _Nodding, she climbed to her feet and took a moment to regain her balance. Then she grasped his right hand as he offered it to her and hauled him upright. After catching their breath and reorienting themselves on the skates, they made their way to the exit. Reaching the gap in the wall, Janet prepared to step out onto solid ground, where a substantial seating area awaited them, but then he stopped her by placing his hand on her arm. Questioningly, she looked at him, wondering if something was wrong._

 _"Just so you know," he began with quiet sincerity, "I meant what I said."_

 _Feeling her cheeks flush, Janet smiled and ducked her head. "Come on," she said, helping him out of the rink and to the safety of the nearest bench._

Pressing her hand to her mouth, Janet choked back another sob. As the memory began to fade, the misery of reality seeped back into her conscious thoughts. Everything had been so much simpler then. Now she was fighting a war without end, a war that set her against him. Perhaps, if he still lived, he could be convinced to see reason. With the _Darkhold_ now in their grasp, Norman's vision for the world could finally be realized, and peace would be restored.

She turned off the water, and all became silent. Peace. Such a simple idea, in theory. The problem was, no one seemed to be able to agree on exactly what a peaceful world should look like. Some believed that the Inhumans and other super-powered individuals should be imprisoned or exterminated. Others thought they should be allowed to live their lives as freely as everyone else. A dangerous minority saw the enhanced as superior beings who deserved to rule over the rest of humanity like masters over slaves.

Janet belonged to an even smaller group of minds who had decided that a measured balance of the aforementioned ideas was required. Freedom without chaos. Control without oppression. Justice without bias. She often wondered if she was too idealistic, if her goals were even achievable. Certainly, she had learned that compromise was a necessary sacrifice, one she had made all too often in the name of the greater good.

But how far could she push herself before becoming what she hated? Was there a point at which the cost was too great? Did her own conscience even matter when weighed against the lives of millions? Was she becoming a machine? A tool to be used? Just like Director Mace and his Inhuman agents?

Janet slammed her open palm against the wall, emitting a cry of frustration. How selfish, how foolish of her to even make such a comparison. Norman had spared her and Jack a lifetime of poverty, of trying to rid themselves of their father's debts. She owed him everything, and she could not abandon him now, not when he needed her most.


	28. Chapter 28

Cassie held her head in her hands, awaiting footsteps, a voice, a smile. It had been twenty-four hours. Not long in the scheme of things, but still torturous. Her words echoed off the empty walls as she spoke to herself. Passing time.

That same room...the one where she'd practiced with Stark. She needed no more practice, and he knew that. So she was here. Waiting. Hungry...

Cassie didn't really move. It hurt too much. A doctor had taken a look at her and determined that yes, one of her ribs had cracked. Resentment had overwhelmed her right after the incident, but now she was really too mentally exhausted to process it. She deserved this. Deserved everything.

Her door opened, but Cassie didn't move, just let her eyes slide over to the gap.

"Hi..." The boy's voice was muffled by his mask.

"Hello," she responded calmly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"A little."

He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze on the floor. "Um...Mr. Stark said that whatever you're hungry for is fine."

"Anything he has."

"No preference?"

"I'm too hungry to care," she sighed.

If guilt could be visible through a mask, Cassie could certainly see it now.

"I'm-I'm sorry," he mumbled.

She felt no anger toward him. He was young, impressionable. And he'd apologized ten times on their trip to the complex.

"It's okay..." she nodded. "I deserve this."

The boy nodded a little and closed the door. Leaning her hear back against a pillow, Cassie let her thoughts drift. Steve... Maybe he was wondering where she was or what had happened. Maybe he thought she didn't care and that she'd left. Either way, Cassie couldn't stand the thought.

The door creaked open again, and Spider-Man stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. "I brought you pasta..."

He knelt beside her, and she lifted her head, sniffing the air, mouth watering.

"You know," she murmured, reaching for the bowl with a grimace, "you sound familiar."

"Well I have a pretty common sounding voice." He shifted.

"It's not that," she smiled at him. "I recognized you, Peter."

The boy immediately stiffened and said nothing.

"Come on," she smiled.

"I don't know who Peter is," he mumbled, standing, leaving the room, and shutting the door behind him.

Cassie sighed and stared at the food. She was starving. Stuffing the pasta into her mouth by the forkful, she moaned in relief.

The bowl was discarded within moments, and she leaned back, cringing. Cassie was very certain that she could get out of here if she wanted to. Now that she knew she could control her abilities, the world had opened up to her. Literally. She figured that she would be able to open a portal once she was physically strong enough. But she wasn't sure if she could now with a broken rib.

She would wait.

 **************

Peter had returned that night to her holding cell, mask off. He'd begged her to keep it a secret, pleading his case, trying to convince her. Cassie needed no convincing and assured him that everything would be fine. He came every day after that.

She saw nothing of Stark or Rhodes. Only Peter and occasionally Vision. Peter would come to talk, to tell her about school and the projects he was working on. He would tell her about his friends and his aunt. She would talk to him about her memories of high school and how important they'd been. After a week of nightly conversations, Cassie felt very close with this high schooler.

One night, he sat next to her, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

"You know...my aunt found out," he shrugged.

"Really?" She glanced over at him curiously.

He stared down at his feet and sighed. "Yeah... I tried really hard to keep it from her. To protect her."

Cassie didn't say anything for a moment. "Everything will work out, Peter."

"You know, I turned down a spot in the Avengers..." he mumbled, glancing uncomfortably at the door.

"Tony asked you?"

"Yeah..."

"I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don't know what I want..."

She glanced down at her own clasped hands. "Me either, Peter."

He looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Do I look like I have my life together?" she laughed, gesturing around the room. A quick grimace overcame her though as the laughter sent a stab of pain through her rib cage.

"Oh...right..."

"Peter, have you spoke to Stark? When will I be released? When will I see him? Will there be a trial?"

"I-I haven't asked."

She sighed, nodding. The boy got to his feet.

"I'd better go," he murmured.

"Bye, Peter."

He gave her a little wave, backing out of the room. When he had gone, Cassie struggled to her feet. Standing and facing the far wall, she took a deep breath and held her hands out in front of her. She completed the motions as Strange had taught her, using all of her focus to bring a portal into existence. Shimmering light shined before her, and Cassie squeaked in delight. Looking behind her at the closed door, Cassie rushed ahead through her portal.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Whew! A new chapter is finally here! This was an emotional one to write. Please review and let me know how you're liking the story! The good, the bad, and the ugly. (okay maybe not the ugly) Getting feedback from you really does help me stay motivated to write this story!

\- Madison

AAAAAAAAAA

Several days passed, each minute feeling like it stretched on for hours. Every time she turned on her television, looked at her phone, or logged on to her computer, her heart started to race. She trembled at the sight of every headline, fearing the worst. The words she dreaded to hear.

But they never came. There was no story, no journalist solemnly delivering the news of Doctor Stephen Strange's tragic demise. The world continued to turn on like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. Slowly, the crushing weight upon her chest began to dissipate, and she could finally breathe again.

Still, something inside her insisted that she see him for herself. She had to make sure. No longer could she endure this torturous silence.

So late one afternoon when she left Oscorp Tower, Janet hailed a taxi and told the driver to take her to 177A Bleecker Street. Darkness had fallen early, and the lights of the city had ignited in response. They streaked past her window in neon blurs, but she did not see them. Her stare was vacant, her thoughts distant.

What would she say? How could she look at him after—?

Sniffing, Janet turned away from the lines of traffic and crowded sidewalks, shutting her eyes and trying to forget. Everything reminded her of him. The music, the decorations, the dusting of snow on asphalt. It was only November, but people always did like to start their holiday activities early.

All too soon, the cab rolled to a stop, and she had no choice but to climb out of it. She had been twiddling her gloved thumbs throughout the duration of the drive, and now she shoved them deep into the pockets of her long coat as she ascended the familiar steps of the Sanctum. They were slick and wet with mostly melted snow, and the doorbell was stiff with cold when she rang.

Caught up by a sudden gust of wind, her hair blew across her face, and she swept the stubborn strands behind her ear with an irritated sigh. Her legs were shaking, her teeth chattering. She told herself that it was just the weather, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

A door creaked open. Janet froze. And there he stood, one scarred hand grasping its wooden frame and the other pressed to his abdomen. He swallowed and blinked several times, looking as though he had not slept for weeks.

"Janet," he croaked.

"Stephen," she gasped with feigned surprise. "What happened? You look terrible."

He nodded slowly, undisguised sarcasm passing over his tired features. "Thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to… Is this a bad time? Should I just—?"

"No," he interrupted, more firmly than she had anticipated. "Come in. It's cold out, and I kept you waiting."

"You don't have to apologize," Janet assured him as she crossed the threshold, guilt welling up inside her.

Strange closed the door and turned to face her. He was unable to conceal the grimace that followed even the slightest movement he made.

"Took me a while to get down here," he muttered, limping past her. "I was in the library when—gah!"

Cursing, he doubled over, and Janet instinctively moved to assist him. Stephen glanced up at her, his eyes suddenly flashing. He abruptly straightened and flinched back, avoiding her touch. Concern clouded her gaze as she stopped and frowned. Her outstretched hand drifted slowly back to her side.

"Stephen?"

His chest was rising and falling heavily, and though his shoulders slumped forward with exhaustion, he had immediately dropped into a combat-ready stance. Janet tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to budge. He knew. Somehow he knew.

"Stephen, is there something you would like to tell me?"

"No." He shook his head, fingers uncurling. "I think I'd rather show you."

She didn't know how it happened. One moment, they were standing in the entry hall, and the next—the library. Everything was exactly as she had last seen it, chaotic and littered with debris. Splintered wood and scattered papers, books with broken spines and pages half-torn out of them.

Struggling to reorient herself, Janet saw Strange catch himself against a nearby desk—the same one where she had found the _Darkhold_. The spell had taken a lot out of him in his already weakened state, and he swayed unsteadily as he raised his head and met her gaze once more. His hand was reaching for something on the mahogany surface, something small and—

Her breath caught, her heart beating so loudly that it was pounding in her ears.

"I believe…this belongs to you," he said, grasping a small pistol with both hands and holding it out to her.

She shook her head insistently, still in denial. "I've never seen—"

"Janet."

A chill ran down her spine at the sound of his low and unnervingly calm voice, and she fell silent.

"You carried this same weapon with you the day we boarded the quinjet to search for the _Darkhold_ —your target. The prize you've been seeking this whole time."

She felt sick. Her insides were twisting into painful knots with each word he spoke.

"That's why you came here. Oscorp was looking for it. Norman was looking for it. And you took it to him, didn't you?"

"We didn't know what we would find," Janet retorted, her voice trembling uncontrollably.

"But you were searching for something," Stephen pressed, "and you used me to find it."

She lowered her head, her gaze falling to the floor. "Yes."

A shaking exhale escaped his lungs, and she heard the I.C.E.R. clunk onto the desk.

"I knew that you weren't telling me everything, Janet. But this?" Wearily, he ran a hand down his face and closed his eyes.

Her breaths became shallow and rapid, as if she were dragging each one painfully from her lungs. She rocked forward and then back onto her heels. "What I did to you, Stephen…it was an accident."

His eyes met hers, the lump in her throat threatening to strangle her.

"The mission was to steal the _Darkhold_. But then…you got in my way."

"Huh," he laughed dryly, moving around the edge of the desk and taking two steps toward her. "So that's it then? I got in your way, so you decided to stab me."

"I couldn't let you find out who I was," Janet choked. "It will ruin _everything_ I've worked so hard for."

"But it's not just about you, is it? You're protecting Norman."

Blinking rapidly, she clenched her jaw in a vain attempt to steady her voice. "You know what he's done for me and for Jack."

"I don't care what he did," Stephen persisted, taking another step closer. "He doesn't own you."

" _No one_ owns me," she growled. "All of this was _my choice_."

"Even your powers?"

Janet faltered, her lips parting. He advanced further, leaving so little space between them that she was tempted to retreat.

"What happened to you, Janet?"

Her eyes flared. "I don't need or want your pity, Stephen. I've been getting by just fine without you for thirteen years."

"Ah of course," he nodded, gesturing broadly. "I was starting to wonder how long we could hold a conversation without you bringing that up."

"Don't pretend to know me," she responded in a voice that was both quiet and deadly. "Don't pretend to care. Then, maybe I won't have to remind you."

"It's not pretend, Janet," he replied simply. "It never was."

She shook her head, her lip curling. "You're unbelievable."

Turning sharply on her heel, she started to walk away.

"Janet."

Reluctantly, she stopped, her back still facing him.

"I told you all those years ago that I meant what I said, and I did. I still do."

There was the slightest tremble in his voice, and she suddenly felt as if her heart had stopped beating. It was like she had been punched in the gut and all breath had been driven from her lungs. She shut her eyes, turned slowly to face him, then opened them again.

"It's too late, Stephen."

"It doesn't have to be."

Janet pressed her lips tightly together, fighting to keep control. She swallowed and averted her gaze as tears burned in her eyes. "Are you going to report me to the authorities?"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his sleek black hair. "No. You told me that you wouldn't talk, and so far, you've kept your word. So…I'll return the favor."

Her eyes raised to his, relief flooding through her, and the corners of his lips curved into a small smile. She made a weak attempt to return it, but the pain his words caused her had become too much to bear. So she ran like she always did, escaping the confines of the library before he could utter another word.


	30. Chapter 30

Cassie closed her eyes, trying to reorient herself. Everything was spinning, and the contents of her stomach seemed unable to slow down.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked to her left.

Cassie opened her eyes and glanced around her. Everything was unfamiliar, and she tried in vain to get her bearings. Turning to see the owner of the voice, Cassie slipped, landing hard on the concrete. She cried out in pain, her hand instinctively falling to her rib cage. Trying helplessly to push herself up from the ground, she stared through watering eyes at the cracked concrete. Grunts escaped her lips as she sat gingerly.

A man stood above her. His eyes were wide and suspicious. He extended his hand calmly, and she merely stared at it, dubious.

"I'll help you up," he explained.

With one hand in his and the other pressed against her side, she whimpered at the pull she felt as he yanked her upward. He was a good head taller than her, leaning over her cautiously.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but how did you get here?"

Cassie glanced around at his words. She was standing outside on a concrete barrier, a sharp wind blowing around them. The sky was dark and cloudy above them, and the air was filled with noise. She couldn't place it at first, but then she saw a plane rushing past her as it took off. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she took a cautious step back.

"But I was-Stephen's-"

"Stephen's? You're here, ma'am..." His eyes were filling with concern every passing moment.

"No-no-I-" Cassie's voice trembled at his words. She couldn't conceal her surprise or pain. Her travel had taken a lot out of her remaining strength.

"Stephen's County Airport? You're here," he reiterated.

"But I..." She paused, glancing around nervously.

The man in front of her had begun to reach out towards her hand, and she quickly nodded.

"Th-thank you. Of course... Thank you."

She turned and walked as well as she could without groaning.

"Stephen's County," she grumbled to herself. "This is so stupid. It's not freaking Harry Potter. It isn't floo powder..."

She stopped, glancing up. Men were around her, loading planes, and Cassie suddenly felt very cautious. She looked like a lunatic.

Where was this airport?

She turned to glance behind her and saw the man who had helped her up watching her cautiously. Her eyes widened as he pulled a walkie talkie from his belt and lifted it to his face. There were men in security outfits roaming nearby, and a short distance remained between them and the airport. She was standing very obviously in the middle of a busy field. If she could find a quiet spot, Cassie thought she might be able to try again.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped about.

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down now," a man spoke, his eyes narrowed. He wore a yellow security vest and had a tight grip on her shoulder.

Her original aide was standing beside him.

"What's your name, ma'am?" he asked calmly.

"I'm-" Her voice stopped, her eyes widening.

A thought struck her suddenly. She shouldn't share her name with this man.

"Tori...Brown," she mumbled, eyes fixed on his.

"Well, Miss Brown, perhaps you'd like to come inside with me and explain what's going on?"

"Y-yes. That would be fine."

She crossed her arms over her chest and let him lead her by the shoulder. It was quite cold outside, and all she wore was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants Stark had given her. And socks. No wonder they wanted to talk to her.

Cassie's mind raced. She didn't know what to do.

They reached a set of stairs, and Cassie winced, placing a hand on the rail. Lifting a foot, she grimaced, bearing her weight.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

Cassie glanced behind her and nodded. Her sock slipped on the wet stair, and she went down hard, slamming her chin into the metal. She didn't cry out, but she felt the silent tears making their way down her face. She was weaker than she thought.

"Are you okay? Can you get up?"

She nodded wordlessly and tried to lift herself up. She felt the man's hands on her waist, and she finally cried out in pain as he placed pressure against her side.

"I-I broke a rib," she murmured weakly.

He didn't say a word and motioned for her to continue up the stairs. She did so and was hit by a blast of hot air that warmed her nose and ears. People who were boarding a plane stared at her curiously.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me please, people..."

The guard pushed his way through the line, letting her walk in front of him. Her steps were slow as she tried to minimize her pain. Emerging into the main gate, he steered her to the right, and she glanced behind her.

"May I-may I go to the restroom?"

He slowed, narrowing his eyes. "No, ma'am."

"I haven't done anything wrong," she pleaded.

"Ma'am, you were in a restricted area. In an airport."

"Please, just the bathroom? You could put someone outside of the stall?"

He glanced around at the throng of people and nodded. "Just a moment."

He lifted his walkie talkie and spoke into it quietly. She waited, rather nervously, steeling herself.

A women arrived momentarily and, without a word, ushered her into the nearest bathroom. The woman was stern and harsh, her eyes hardly even glancing at Cassie.

The bathroom was not too crowded, which was nice. It meant that there was no wait.

Closing the stall door behind her quietly, Cassie turned toward the wall. As quietly as she could, she took a deep breath and opened a portal, concentrating on her destination. Stepping through, she closed it behind her and staggered forward. Nausea overwhelmed her, and she doubled over, closing her eyes.  
"Cassie?"  
His voice was soft and surprised, and she glanced up, a smile taking over her face.  
"Stephen..."  
They were in the library, and he was reclining in a chair, book in hand. Gingerly, he stood and approached her. She straightened, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat.

"What's going on? You could have called?"

"Stephen, I-" She stopped, narrowing her eyes.  
His face was pale, eyes worn. There was a pain she hadn't seen him wear in a long time. She noticed the way he held his hand over his side, grimacing at every movement.  
"What happened?" Her voice trembled, all thought of her last few days lost.  
"It's...nothing," he murmured wearily.  
"Stephen...it's not nothing... What happened? You're hurt."  
He sighed and met her eyes. "I got into an altercation... They had the upper hand."  
She glanced down at the hand he held over his side and let out a shaky breath. "Will you be okay?"  
Strange was the strongest person she knew. For him to be so worn...it worried her. He smiled in spite of himself and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.  
"Yes, sunshine. I'll be fine. Now...what are you doing here? I've been trying to get in touch with you. You haven't answered your phone."  
"I-I couldn't."  
Suddenly, his eyes creased, and he looked her up and down. "Where have you been?"  
"I...I..."  
"Sit down," he urged.  
She bit her lip and complied, leaning back into his chair and staring at her closed hands.  
"What's going on?" he pried.  
"Well...Stark...he-I tried-"  
Stephen winced as he knelt by her side, her head falling into her hands. "Cassie, did he hurt you?"  
"He locked me up, Stephen."  
Strange didn't say anything, and finally, she glanced up, meeting his eyes.

"He locked you up? Without warning?"  
"I got in the car. To tell him I didn't need his help anymore, but he wouldn't let me out. He said if i called you, that it would put you in danger. So-so i made the car stop... I-I didn't know what to do. But-but it worked." Her voice trembled as she struggled to convey her thoughts.  
"Shh, it's okay," he whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, eyes softening. "What worked?"  
"I-I was in control...and I didn't hurt anybody, not permanently anyway. But then Spider-Man, following Stark's orders, slammed me against the concrete...and it broke a rib. They locked me up, and it took me a long time to regain enough strength to get out." She was breathing heavily, feeling dizzy.  
Stephen didn't say anything for a moment. "You...opened a portal?"  
She nodded wordlessly, and his face broke into a grin.  
"You did it, Cassie!"  
She watched him for a moment and then slowly smiled and nodded. "But I don't know what to do now. Won't he come after me?"

"No," he responded quickly. "I won't let that happen."

His jaw set, and he narrowed his eyes.

"But he's right, Stephen. I did kill people."

"Stark used to make weapons. His hands aren't clean."

Cassie didn't say a word, leaning back into the chair tiredly.

"Would you like to stay here tonight?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Yes. Thank you, Stephen."


	31. Chapter 31

_The door clanged open, and she rushed out into the cool evening air. The weight of her backpack tugged on her shoulders as she bounced down the stairs, heart fluttering with excitement. Her eyes darted instinctively to the nearby maple tree, whose familiar branches had become barren and brown with the onset of winter. There was a bench that sat beneath it, wrought of iron. It was where he always waited for her. But this time, he was not there._

 _Janet stopped in her tracks, heart plummeting. He had not been returning any of her calls or texts, and she was beginning to worry that something had happened to him. Her breaths became shallow and rapid as she set out on her usual route back to her dorm. The occasional lamp lit her path, the sidewalks relatively empty. She had contacted their friends, but no one had heard from him in days._

 _Buttoning her coat against the wind, Janet stuffed her exposed hands into her pockets as her scarf whipped about her shoulders. She had not seen him since he had left for Nebraska at the start of the Christmas holiday, but they had been keeping in constant contact until, one day, her calls had gone unanswered. Her texts had not received a single reply. She had told herself that he was busy and had decided to give him space if he needed it. But now a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that something was seriously wrong._

 _Across the way, Janet suddenly spotted an unmistakable silhouette sauntering along beneath a row of sparsely placed lights. He drifted in and out of the shadows, head hung low and hands buried in the pockets of his long black coat. A wave of relief washed over her, a grin spreading across her face as she left the sidewalk and cut across the lawn. She stayed behind him, avoiding his line of sight as she approached. He appeared to be lost in his own world, remaining completely unaware of her presence as she crept closer._

 _Eventually, Janet came near enough to touch him, and she reached up quickly with both hands, covering his eyes. Caught off guard, he flinched and then stopped, becoming completely still._

 _"_ _Guess who?" she said in a singsong voice._

 _He sighed irritably. "I know it's you, Janet."_

 _Frowning, she removed her hands and allowed them to hang loosely at her sides. "What's wrong, Stephen? I haven't seen you for two weeks. You haven't been answering my calls or responding to my texts. I was worried about you."_

 _He faced her now, his features pale and worn. His eyes were tired and sunken, several locks of black hair falling over his forehead. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe there's a reason for that?"_

 _Her brow furrowed, her frown deepening. "What are you talking about?"_

 _Stephen huffed angrily, his breath emerging as a small cloud that swiftly dissipated. "Do we have to do this the hard way, Janet? Look, it's time for both of us to move on."_

 _"_ _What?" She stared at him incredulously, her shock slowly turning to amusement. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"_

 _His expression remained as it was, cold and withdrawn. Her smile faded. Her heart began to pound, a lump swelling inside her throat._

 _"_ _Y-you're serious?"_

 _"_ _I'm here to earn my medical degree so that I can become a doctor," he went on in a steadily sharpening tone. "I'm preparing for my future career, my life's work. I can't afford the luxury of distractions."_

 _His harsh words dealt as painful a blow as if they had been branded into her skin. Janet's cheeks burned scarlet, her blood boiling. Rage clawed at her insides like a caged animal. Never had she felt so betrayed._

 _"_ _There's someone else, isn't there?" she demanded furiously, advancing until her face was inches from his. "Don't lie to me, Stephen, or I swear—"_

 _"_ _No," he interrupted sternly. "There is no one else. I gave you my reasons."_

 _Her shoulders sagged, her spirit shattering as an overwhelming wave of defeat threatened to drown her. "Then…I…I don't understand. W-we were fine. Everything was—I thought—?"_

 _"_ _What? That I loved you?" he finished dismissively. "Come on, Janet, it wasn't serious. We were just having fun. It couldn't last."_

 _"_ _Having fun?" she repeated, her voice breaking. "That's all it was to you? You expect me to believe that?"_

 _For a brief instant, Stephen's rigid exterior faltered. A flicker of remorse appeared in the depths of his blue gaze before being swiftly and ruthlessly extinguished. "It's over, Janet," he said quietly._

 _There was finality in his voice, and she knew then that there was nothing she could do that would change his mind. Hot tears flooded her vision as she reached up with her right hand, fingers sliding beneath her scarf and grasping the silver chain that was fastened around her neck. Her eyes met his, and then, with a single, violent tug, Janet broke its clasp. She held it out, the locket he had given her dangling between them._

 _Blinded, she could not bring herself to let it go. Grief and ire tangled inside her as her whole world came crashing down. How could he do this to her? After everything they had been through? Blinking, Janet clenched her jaw as tears rolled down her cheeks, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not keep her lips from trembling._

 _"_ _This is about my father, isn't it?"_

 _Stephen said nothing in reply, his silence telling her all she needed to know. Throat constricting to the point of nearly choking her, she finally willed her fingers to open, and the locket fell from her grasp. It struck the concrete with a sharp clink, and Janet grimaced, shutting her eyes as the sound echoed inside her ears. Sharp and piercing, it caused her to recoil. But she could not escape it._

 _Suddenly, everything was spinning. She was losing her balance, her sense of direction. She didn't know where she was anymore. Everything was dark and infinitely black. She was screaming, crying, tears streaming down her face as she demanded answers she could never have. How could he do this to her? Why?_

 _Why?_

 _Janet opened her eyes. She was on her knees. Her hands were wet and sticky, so she turned them over to get a better look at them. With a horrified gasp, she flinched back. They were soaked with scarlet blood—his blood._

 _Then she saw him lying there, right in front of her. He was dead, his eyes wide open and staring up at her—accusing her. She had killed him. It was her fault—all her fault._

 _She cried out for help, screamed and wailed until her throat was raw. But none came. She was utterly alone with her horrors, the atrocities she had committed. There was no one left to blame but herself._

 _Alone._

Janet bolted upright, her voice dying in her throat as she realized where she was. The bedsheets had been flung onto the floor in a tangled, crumpled mess. Strands of black hair were plastered to her forehead, her tank top soaked and clinging to her skin. Her heart was pounding out of control, and she couldn't catch her breath. No matter how many times she blinked, she couldn't stop seeing him lying there in a pool of his own blood.

She had done that.

A strangled sob escaped her as Janet buried her face in her hands. "Why did you leave? Why did you leave me? I needed you. I needed you, and you left. Stephen…"

A fiery glow suddenly flashed behind her closed lids, and she heard the unmistakable crackling of magical energy. Stunned, she raised her head and opened her eyes. A circular portal had formed at the foot of her bed, and a tall, robed silhouette was stepping out of it. Sparks leaped and shimmered around him, illuminating the very features she had dreaded and yet yearned to see with every fiber of her being.

"Stephen?"

Janet abruptly stood as the gateway dissipated and left them in darkness. Still, distant lights filtered in through the window and flickered across his furrowed brow in strange neon colors.

"What are you doing here? How-how did you find me?"

"I heard you," he answered simply, observing her with undisguised sympathy.

She swept her hair back from her face and clutched it there on the crown of her head, hot tears springing forth. Pressing her other hand tightly to her mouth, she stifled the sobs that threatened to emerge.

"I'm sorry, Janet," he said in a trembling voice, taking a step toward her. "I'm so, so sorry."

And that was all it took to break her. She sank slowly down onto her knees, shutting her eyes again as tears leaked out from beneath her lids. She couldn't stop shaking. The darkness was closing in around her, promising to snuff out whatever was left of her.

But then he was there, kneeling in front of her. Reaching out, he gently took her cold hand in both of his, enveloping her frozen fingers with the warmth of his own. His thumb moved back and forth across her skin, and a muffled sob escaped her, her other hand still pressed against her lips.

"Janet…"

Slowly, she raised her head and looked at him. His eyes shone with unshed tears, pleading and consumed with guilt. Finally, she lowered her hand, and her voice emerged as scarcely more than a whisper.

"I almost killed you." She shuddered and choked back another sob. "I almost killed you. I could have—"

"You didn't," he interrupted firmly, scooting closer and grasping her hand tighter.

"I'm sorry, Stephen. I'm so sorry."

He smiled slightly. "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and Janet tried to swipe them away.

"Come here," he said quietly, leaning forward and taking her into his arms.

The guarded exterior she had been cultivating and maintaining for so long finally crumbled. Her walls came crashing down, and she fell against his chest. Clutching the soft blue fabric desperately between her fingers, she clung to him as if he might disappear at any given moment. All of the guilt and anger and pain she had been concealing and restraining since that night in the Sanctum burst forth like cascading water from a collapsed dam.

"Janet…let it go."

Only then did she realize how distant his voice sounded. Power was pulsing through her veins, a cosmic, deafening wind rushing in her ears and shutting out everything else. Screams echoing across the vast expanse of the universe were calling to her, offering only their hatred and vengeful desires.

 _"_ _Janet."_

His voice was loud now—inside her mind. It was like a resounding beacon, shining in the midst of a raging storm and showing her the way out. She wasn't alone anymore.

Clawing her way forward through the infinite blackness, she extended a hand, straining her reach as far as it would go. Malevolent forces fought to drag her back down into the abyss, but suddenly, ghostly fingers emerged from the blinding light and grasped her hand. She was lifted up out of the void, and then—

Janet's eyes flew open with a gasp as the black hissing energy that was swirling around them finally dissipated. Stephen was still holding on to her, and she to him. Her chest was heaving, and she was trembling violently from head to toe. Even in waking, she could not escape the nightmares that plagued her.

"It's all right," he said softly, stroking her hair as more of her tears seeped into his robe. "I've got you. I've got you."

Her fear slowly began to melt away, her breathing slowing. All those times she had wanted—needed—him there, and he wasn't. But now? Now he was, and she found that she no longer yearned for the darkness.

"Stephen, will you…will you stay?" Janet asked quietly. She couldn't bear the thought of him leaving, couldn't consider the prospect of facing her demons alone.

"Yeah," he answered as she listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. "Yeah, I'll stay."


	32. Chapter 32

Cassie rolled over in bed, blinking as sunlight drifted through a gap in the curtains. She stretched, her toes curling under the sheets. With a groan, she sat, placing her hands on the comforter and staring around the room. Her hair fell in short curls around her head and she ran a hand through them, yawning.

Slowly, she pulled herself from the bed, sore and wincing. She walked over to the window and threw open the curtains. The day was cloudy and gray, and it made Cassie want to crawl back into bed and sleep.

Instead, she left her room and walked quietly down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Stephen?" she called quietly, afraid she would wake him if he were not up.

There was no answer, so Cassie moved toward his fridge and grabbed a carton of milk. She checked the pantry and found that he had some Cheerios on his top shelf. She sat there, eating them in silence.

Suddenly, there was a hiss of energy and crackles in her ear. She turned and saw Stephen standing behind her.

"Hey..." he murmured, a dazed smile on his face.

She looked at him, still wearing his robes, his hair disheveled. "Where have you been?"

He gave her a goofy smile-the first in months-and pulled up a chair next to her. He didn't say anything for a moment, just smiled at her.

"Stephen?" she pressed, curiously waiting for his answer.

"I was out on an errand."

She narrowed her eyes and poked his arm with a smile. "You lie."

He grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Stephen, come on," she pleaded.

"Okay..." He paused. "Last night, I went to see Janet."

Cassie could have sworn that she saw a pink tinge come into his cheeks, but it quickly faded. Her smile fell, and she awkwardly stared at her Cheerios. "But she-she-"

"She's not who you think." Stephen smiled at his clasped hands.

"But she threatened to-she said she'd-"

"Cassie," he reached over and took her hand in his, "she won't harm you, nor will she turn you in."

There was a nervous feeling in her stomach that Cassie couldn't deny. How could she trust Janet? Stephen's feelings were betraying him, and who knew if he was thinking clearly?

"You trust me, right?" he murmured, searching her downcast eyes.

Of course she trusted Strange. It was Janet she was worried about.

"Yeah."

He smiled broadly and stood. "Good. Do you have plans for the day?"

He stopped suddenly and stared down at her, his brow creasing. "It's a school day... Your students-"

A stab of sorrow passed through her-and regret. "I quit."

He sat again, resting a hand between her shoulders. "Why?"

"I couldn't put anyone at risk..."

He nodded understandingly.

"I was thinking that I would go look for an apartment today," she shrugged, changing the subject.

"Where have you been staying?" he asked, turning and reaching into the fridge for a bottled water.

"With a friend." She bit her lip uncomfortably.

"A friend?" he pressed.

"Yeah." She closed the subject with her tone.

"Well, all right, call me if you need me. Or if anything happens at all."

She smiled and stood, wincing at the pain. "I will."

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie knocked softly on his door, waiting impatiently. Her heart was beating loudly, and her stomach was doing turns. When no one answered, a stone dropped in her gut. She needed to explain... She would have called.

"Cassie?"

She turned, eyes wide and lips parted, to see Steve standing behind her with his arms full of groceries. "H-hey..."

He didn't say anything for a moment, shifting the weight of a grocery bag on his arm.

"Do you mind if I move past you?" he asked, moving toward his door.

"Oh. Of course, I'm sorry."

He unlocked the door and pushed it inward, stepping inside. Cassie wasn't sure if she should follow him or not.

"Would you like to come in?" she heard Steve call from inside.

Without a word, she entered his apartment, which felt foreign now, and closed the door. Steve set his groceries on the counter and pushed up the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt.

"So, um..." she started nervously.

"Your stuff is by the back door," Steve interrupted, unpacking his groceries.

"Steve-"

"It's okay, Cassie." He looked up with a weak smile. "You don't have to explain."

"But you don't understand," she protested.

"You weren't bound here by any means. I just thought-I assumed-"

"Steve, it was Tony's fault."

Steve stopped, furrowing his brow and swallowing heavily. He moved around the counter and walked toward her. "What do you mean?"

She saw a flicker of worry in his eyes and, once again, Cassie wondered if she was going to be sick. "Well..."

"Did he hurt you?" Steve whispered, placing his hand against the side of her jaw.

A shiver ran through her body, and all of her pent up emotion threatened to burst. "Yes..." she whispered softly.

Steve wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her head in his chest. His strong arms held her tightly, and she could smell detergent in his sweatshirt.

"How bad?"

She couldn't speak for a moment, trying not to cry. "Could've been a lot worse..."

Steve pulled away and looked into her watering eyes. "Is that why you didn't answer my calls?"

"He had my phone."

"What happened?"

"I told him-I told him I-" Her voice broke, and she placed a hand over her mouth and bowed her head low.

Steve cupped his hand under her jaw and tilted her face toward his. "You stay here, okay? I won't let it happen. I won't let him take you."

She clenched her jaw tightly and lowered her eyes to the floor. Steve slid his hand down to hers and held it firmly.

"Steve?"

"Mhm?"

His eyes were still fixed on hers, but she couldn't bear to meet his.

"Would you go with me to see that apartment?"

"Yeah. Just let me unpack the groceries."

She nodded, pulling back and turning to sit on the couch.

"How'd you get out?" he asked as he put his milk in the fridge.

"I opened a portal."

"He didn't have you bound?"

"Bound?" She looked up at him curiously.

"When he imprisoned Wanda, he had her with a shock collar and bound. I would have thought he'd done the same for you."

"He didn't know I could control it that well yet."

He nodded understandingly. "Let's go."


	33. Chapter 33

Janet opened her eyes. She was lying on her right side, curled up beneath a pile of blankets, and judging by the brightness of her room, it was morning. Blinking sleepily, she thought back to the previous night, her brow furrowing in confusion. She didn't remember climbing into bed. The last thing she remembered was—

Janet suddenly stopped breathing. Her drowsy gaze sharpened instantly. She was wide awake now, and everything that had happened was washing over her in staggering waves.

 _Stephen_.

Rolling over to face the window, Janet stared in stunned silence. It was real—all of it. He was real. Standing between the parted drapes whose translucent gray fabric trailed along the dark wooden floor, his back was facing her. As soon as he heard the shifting and rustling of the sheets, however, Stephen turned, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Hey," he said with a tired smile. "Feeling better?"

Janet's lips parted, but several moments passed before she could manage a response. "You're…still here."

Stepping away from the window, he walked around the end of the bed and came to her side, lowering himself gingerly onto the mattress. She was sitting now, her uncertain eyes tracking his every movement.

"You asked me to stay," he answered quietly, "so I did."

Her chest tightened, and she swallowed. The intensity of his gaze and the sincerity with which he spoke was disarming.

"I guess I did, didn't I?" Janet smiled sheepishly and stared down at the white sheets.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his left hand leave his side, slowly and hesitantly. Her anxious gaze shifted to the scars that began at the tips of his fingers and ran all the way down the back of his hand. In that moment, Janet realized that she was not the only one who had suffered.

When she did not recoil, Stephen carefully slid his hand over hers and allowed it to rest there. Her breath hitched, and she felt an electric shock jolt through her.

"Your hands are warm again," he noted softly.

His fingers trembled slightly as they wandered over her skin and then turned, slipping beneath her hand and lightly tracing her palm. Janet's cheeks flushed, and she sought a way to distract him for her own sake.

"You're not wearing the watch."

Stephen finally glanced up, his fingers pausing. "No. I…" He sighed and shook his head, averting his gaze once again. "No, I'm not."

Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. What was he saying?

She watched as he blinked slowly, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then he withdrew his hand, and she felt an unexpected flicker of disappointment.

"Janet, I know that it isn't the best time to talk about this," Stephen began seriously, his features darkening, "but now may be the only time, and there is too much at stake here for me to simply turn a blind eye."

Her fluttering heart suddenly dropped like a stone, and she frowned.

"You know how dangerous the _Darkhold_ is," he went on, his imploring gaze meeting her own, "and now it's in the hands of Norman Osborn. It cannot remain there. No good can come of whatever he plans to do with it."

"You want it back, don't you?" Her voice was low and wary, her eyes brimming with old suspicion.

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation. "I don't know if it can be destroyed, but whether that is possible or not, it cannot be allowed to linger in the hands of a man consumed by his lust for power."

"Consumed by—?" Anger flared inside her. "You have no idea what he's done—what Oscorp has done—to restore order to this chaotic world. We've always fought. We're still fighting. The _Darkhold_ will finally give us the power we need to put down those who are upsetting an already delicate balance."

"And who decides who gets to exist in this world?" Stephen retorted. "Norman? Come on, Janet. Surely you can see what's wrong with one man thinking that he has the right to choose who lives and dies."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is dangerous. The Inhumans are dangerous," she maintained, her voice cold and hard. "You should know that better than anyone."

He shifted and leaned toward her. She swallowed but did not blink and refused to look away.

"What about you?" he asked suddenly and very quietly. "Are you dangerous? Are you an Inhuman, Janet?"

She clenched her jaw, hot tears springing to her eyes. A lump formed in her throat, and her voice caught when she tried to speak. "I didn't ask for this. I never wanted these 'abilities.' I never thought that I would become the lab rat in my own experiments—that I would become some sort of freak."

Stephen's scrutinizing gaze softened in an instant. "What happened, Janet?"

She inhaled a slow, shaking breath and found that she could no longer look at him. Absently, her fingers fiddled with the sheets as she struggled to recount the events of that day. "Two years ago, my team and I were studying some Terrigen Crystals. We knew that they were the catalyst to unlocking any Inhuman's potential, so we were trying to find a way to use them to enhance the DNA of everyone on this planet—not just the ones already affected by the Kree experiments. I wanted to make those abilities safe and easy to control. I wanted them to be accessible and readily available to anyone who wanted them. That would have leveled the playing field and eliminated the threat without violence."

She paused and glanced up. He was listening intently, his brow furrowed.

"I never found out if it was going to work. One day, I decided to examine the crystals up close and, while I was on the other side of the glass, my own team sealed me in. Then they shattered the crystals, which exposed me to the gas. After that, I—" Her voice cracked, and she could not continue. She lowered her head and shut her eyes, tears leaking out from beneath her lids.

"Who's orders were they following?" he questioned, voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

"No one's," Janet answered quietly. "Norman said that Jenkins, my second in command, had become extremely radical and reckless with his methods. He thought that there was no way to achieve progress without testing and observing the process with human subjects."

There was a dangerous flicker in Stephen's intense blue gaze. "Surely their actions did not go unpunished?"

"No," she murmured, daring to meet his eyes. "I killed them."

His lips parted in shock, and he drew back.

"After that, I never conducted experiments again," she went on, despite his dismayed reaction. "Norman removed me from that division, and I was redirected to combat training. He started sending me on different assignments, gave me targets. I was never one for fighting but, after what happened, something inside me changed. I…felt different. I enjoyed it."

Stephen's face was buried in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. He said nothing for some time, and she fell silent, watching him warily. Finally, he raised his head and turned to fully face her, his features grave.

"Janet, do you even realize that he's just using you as a weapon?"

His words stabbed deep, provoking an instinctively defensive response.

"Norman Osborn gave me a chance when I had none. He had more faith in me than my own parents ever did. You know what would have happened to Jack and I if he hadn't stepped in when he did."

"You don't owe him anything," Stephen insisted.

"I owe him everything." Her voice was low, her eyes flashing with unbreakable resistance.

His fingers curled against the sheets, his frustration visibly growing as he scooted closer. "This is not who you are, Janet. You are not a murderer. This dark power they awoke inside you is lying to you. I know all about Dormammu and his promises of eternal life. Those voices you hear—they are deceiving you. They don't care about you. All that matters to them is their own selfish desires and those of the malevolent master they serve."

Only then did she realize that the mysterious entity she had momentarily glimpsed in her mind's eye was the same one that Stephen had spoken to her of the first time she had set foot in the Sanctum. _Dormammu_ —that was where she had heard that name before.

Suddenly, a loud vibration directly beside her caused her to jump, and Janet snatched her cellphone off the bedside table.

"Yeah?"

"Sis? Are you coming in to work today or not?"

Cursing, she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Yeah, Jack, I'm so sorry. I overslept. I'll-I'll be there within the hour."

"Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. Now stop worrying. I'll see you soon."

Without giving him another chance to respond, she abruptly ended the call and tossed her phone onto the mattress.

"I'm late for work," she explained frantically, nimbly swinging her legs around Stephen and springing to her feet. "More than late. I'm—"

His hand shot out and grasped her wrist, causing her to pause and glance back at him. His eyes were hopeful as they gazed imploringly up at her.

"Promise me that we'll continue this discussion another time."

Janet hesitated, her heart pounding. Slowly, she nodded and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I promise."


	34. Chapter 34

Steve helped her settle into her new place, though there wasn't much to unpack.  
"Cassie?" he asked, moving a bed she'd bought at a thrift store into her bedroom.  
"Mm?" she murmured, not glancing up as she folded some towels in the bathroom.

She heard the slam of the wood as he set her bed down and then felt his presence behind her. She turned, glancing up, Steve standing above her.  
"What is it Steve?"  
He knelt beside her and started folding towels. Her eyes scanned his face. Every tense line and nervous flicker of his eyes.

"I...I'm worried about Stark," he murmured.

She felt a blush come into her cheeks as she realized he was concerned for her. She slid her hand on top of his and smiled. Cassie could feel the toughness of his hands, and she let her fingers rest a moment longer, brushing against his.

"I'm fine, Steve."

Pulling away, Cassie continued folding washcloths until the box was empty. Steve said nothing more.

"Listen, Steve...I've been wanting to talk to someone about something..."

His eyes suddenly met hers, and he nodded. "What is it?"

Rocking back, she crossed her legs under her and folded her hands in her lap. "Stephen has a new...well, sort of like...this girl."

Steve's face suddenly sank, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"And she... I think she's bad news."

"Are you jealous?" he asked, lowering his eyes to the floor.

With a surprised look crossing her face, Cassie wasn't sure what to say. "No! No! Steve...my relationship with Strange is nothing like that...at all...ever."

He glanced at her hesitantly.

"I don't like Strange that way. He's...he's the closest thing I have to a father figure right now."

"Your real father?" he pressed.

A nervous swallow passed through her throat, and she cast her eyes down. "Wonderful. He's an engineer, my mother a nurse. I have a wonderful, supportive family, but..."

"You can't hurt them," he smiled compassionately.

"Yes."

A tense silence filled the room, broken by Cassie clearing her throat. "Anyway, I only meant that I think this girl is...bad news."

"What's her name?" Steve murmured, standing and leaning against the wall.

"Janet. Stephen loves her, I think, but something's wrong with her. I can feel it. And I don't know what to do. What if she hurts him?"

Cassie stood, taking the towels and putting them on the bed. Her shoulders tensed as she felt him lay a hand on her back.

"He's fine," Steve reassured her.

"I-I guess."

Steve placed some pressure against her back, forcing her to turn and face him. Her heart was beating wildly, and Cassie couldn't quite meet his eyes. Suddenly, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He held her tightly, neither saying a word.

When she finally pulled away, her voice was stronger. "Thanks, Steve. I'm-I'm gonna go. I want to take care of something."

With a gentle hand pressed against her still sore ribs, she walked out of her bedroom, Steve at her heels.

"Okay. Would you like to eat dinner with me and Wanda tonight?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice. Thank you."

"I think it's smart for you to spend more time at our place...just in case."

She was blushing again, glad that Steve was behind her so he couldn't see.

AAAAAAAAAA

"Peter!"

The boy turned suddenly, his eyes widening in shock. Some of his friends turned at the sound of his name as well. Her eyes flicked about nervously, and she waited until the he approached her. Lingering slightly behind Peter was a girl about his age. She had dark, curly, unruly hair and was wearing a black t-shirt with a band name Cassie had never heard of printed across the front.

"What are you doing here?" Peter murmured softly. "Are you insane?"

"I need a favor," she returned.

"What is it?"

"I need you to convince Stark," she paused, glancing around and lowering her voice, "to not want to kill me, lock me up, or worse."

Her thoughts filtered through Steve's words about Wanda's binding.

"Why?" His voice was harder than she'd anticipated.

"I'm going to call him. I need his help, but this only works if he doesn't kill me on first sight."

"Stark wouldn't do that," Peter shrugged.

"Either way," she murmured.

"He's got...bigger things he's worrying about right now. There's this whole...Wakanda thing, and-"

He stopped suddenly, as though realizing it wasn't appropriate.

"Anyway," he continued, "I don't think he's worried about you."

She narrowed her eyes curiously but nodded.

"Peter, come on!" the girl behind him shouted.

Cassie glanced her up and down and smiled politely. The girl gave her a two-fingered wave.

"I've gotta go," Peter murmured.

She nodded, watching the two walk away.

As Cassie left the school, she shoved her hands into her black coat, shivering against the slight wind in the air. The sky shown blue above her, her senses tingling. Her fingers shook in fists in her pockets.

AAAAAAAAAA

She stared at the number, unsure. Her heart was thumping, and a sense of betrayal hit her in the gut. Finally, she dialed.

"Hello?" His voice crackled through the payphone.

"Tony."

Silence. She waited, wondering already if this had been a mistake.

"Cassie-"

"Stark, listen. I need your help. I think-I think there's a danger..."

"Besides you?"

Sharp pain behind her temples warned Cassie of an oncoming headache. She hesitated, knowing she couldn't prove anything. "It's...someone I know. I want you to check on her."

"And I should do you a favor because? You're wanted."

"Stark, you claim that you want to hold people accountable, and you claim that you want to keep people safe. This is just a hunch, but..."

"But what?"

"I think there's a woman you need to investigate."

Her throat clenched as she gave him Janet's name.


	35. Chapter 35

When she arrived at Oscorp Tower, Jack was waiting for her. Instead of finding her office empty and undisturbed as she had expected, Janet discovered her brother sitting at her desk with his shoes propped on its polished glass surface. There were papers in his hands, his silvery eyes scanning the printed words. Scowling, she approached him.

"Get your feet off my desk."

Glancing up in mock surprise, Jack remained as he was. "Oh, my apologies. I was under the impression that you no longer cared for such trivial things as order and tidiness."

He suddenly slapped the documents down onto the desk, and she flinched.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"My analysis of—"

"It's sloppy," he snapped, abruptly returning his feet to the floor. "Unsophisticated. Inept."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, fingers curling at her sides.

"Ever since Norman gave you this assignment, you've been distracted—inefficient. I didn't fault you at first. After all, you and Strange have quite the history. But the time for sentiment has passed, Janet."

Standing, Jack placed both hands on the desk and leaned toward her. "For a while, it was only a hindrance. But when you stabbed him that night and failed to kill him—which would have been the preferable outcome—you collapsed like a precariously balanced stack of cards. Now you can't even be bothered to show up for work." Slowly, he straightened, a threatening gleam in his eyes. "Tsk, tsk… What _will_ Norman think?"

Lips pressed into a thin line, Janet fought to keep her expression blank and unreadable, but her heart was pounding. "You already told him."

"Of course I did," he replied, feigning regret. "The problem is becoming too great of an interference to ignore. We have the _Darkhold_ in our grasp, Janet. As long as we have it, there is no limit to what we can achieve. But I know as well as you that Doctor Strange will not let such a powerful tool go so easily. He will come for it, and we must be ready for him."

Exhaling, she placed her hands on her hips and shrugged. "What does any of this have to do with me showing up late?"

"Everything." His voice was low and deadly. "We cannot afford a moment of weakness. You cannot. You must be prepared to stop him by whatever means necessary."

"I am," she assured him.

"Are you?"

Their gazes were locked, waging silent war, and she refused to deem his question worthy of an answer.

"Hmph," Jack grunted finally. "We'll see."

He shouldered past her with just enough force to let her know that it was intentional, but Janet remained as she was until she heard the door close firmly behind her. Silence fell, sunlight streaming through the windows and stinging her eyes. Frustration flared inside her, but she carried on with her regular routine, pretending as if her life was not collapsing in on itself like a demolished building. First, she closed the curtains in order to ease her discomfort, and then she sat down at her desk. Taking a slow, deep breath, she tried to clear her mind and focus on the day's tasks.

It was time to get to work.

AAAAAAAAAA

The sun was setting amidst a blood red sky, bathing Norman's entire office in an intense scarlet glow. Janet stood at her brother's side as Oscorp's founder grinned triumphantly, his arms spread wide.

"The United States government has turned its back on S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Mace is dead, and its remaining members have gone into hiding. The Inhuman situation is being brought under control, and now, we have the _Darkhold._ " There was a proud gleam in his pale eyes. "Everything is going according to plan."

She smiled. "All of your hard work has paid off, Norman."

"I never could have done it without the two of you. Both of you have come so far. You've learned how to bring about the kind of change the world sorely needs, and you are closer than ever to achieving your true potential."

"There's something more, isn't there?" Jack inquired. "Another reason you called us here?"

Osborn's gaze twinkled approvingly. "You're right. I do have an announcement that I would prefer to make in person—to you—before I tell the rest of the company." He paused, deliberately making eye contact with both of them before continuing. "I was approached by prominent figures within the government. They made an offer, and I accepted it. Oscorp is now set to become the principle supplier to the United States military."

Her lips parted involuntarily. _The military?_ Norman had always said that their production of arms was just a temporary operation, a way to fund themselves until they could afford to move beyond it.

"That's wonderful news," Jack grinned.

Clearly, he did not share her concerns.

Norman caught her dismayed expression before she could conceal it, and his brow furrowed slightly. "Well? What do you think, Janet?"

Blinking, she opened her mouth to reply, but she never got a chance to. The sun slipped below the horizon, and Oscorp Tower suddenly went dark. Alarms blared. The emergency lights switched on, the rapid flashes of red and white causing her to grimace. She looked at Jack, only to find that his expression was as baffled as hers.

Norman was already moving, pressing his open palm to a button on his desk and demanding to know what was going on. Static crackled through the adjacent speaker—static and screaming.

"It's-it's a demon!" the secretary shrieked. "He's going to kill us! He's going to—"

The line went dead. Slipping behind his desk and tapping a series of keys as calmly and deliberately as if he were solving a simple equation, Norman's eyes narrowed as several screens appeared within the clear, flat surface.

"I'm locking this place down," he announced.

"Have you found the intruder?" Janet inquired, approaching him.

"He's not hiding," Osborn replied, meeting her gaze. "See for yourself."

There was recognition in his eyes, and she could not explain why, but it sent a chill down her spine. Moving hesitantly to his side, she looked down at the screen displaying the view of the camera installed in the entrance lobby. And then her blood ran cold.

A monster with a flaming skull was carving through their professionally trained guards with ease, incinerating them and ripping through their bodies with his burning chain.

Terror seized her as she recalled her assignment in Los Angeles. It seemed so long ago now, but she remembered everything. She had seen hell that night.

"He's come for the _Darkhold_ ," she realized, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

Her boss's features hardened with stubborn determination. "Then we have to take it someplace far away from here, where he'll never find it."

Janet didn't know if that was possible, but they had to try.

"I'll get the chopper ready," said Jack.

"Good," Norman nodded, snatching the book from his desk.

"I'll go and…try to slow him down," she added, failing to hide her fear.

Jack glanced her way. "You sure about that, sis?"

"Yeah, I…I just need to distract him until you're gone."

He swallowed, and she thought she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. Stepping forward, Osborn placed a grateful hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Janet. And good luck."

"Maybe I should stay and help," Jack suggested.

"No," she objected firmly. "You need to make sure Norman gets to the chopper. We can't leave him unprotected."

"Your sister's doing a brave thing. Don't undermine it."

Norman's words caused Jack to lower his head in resignation. "All right," he conceded finally. "Let's go."

The three of them exited the office together, but Jack and Norman headed left toward the elevator that would take them to the roof. As they parted ways, Janet saw her brother look back at her. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, and then she turned away.

There was no time to grab her gear, so she reached down and tore the hem of her gray pencil skirt so that she could run. Breaking into a jog, she went right, trying to estimate which floor the Ghost Rider would have reached by this point. She knew that he couldn't use the elevators because he didn't have the access codes that would allow him to override the lockdown. Unless…

As she rounded the corner, Janet stopped dead in her tracks. At the end of the corridor, she had heard a familiar ding signaling that the elevator doors were about to open. Sucking in a sharp breath, she retreated and pressed her back to the wall, concealing herself from view. Her fingers trembled violently as she whipped out her cellphone and frantically tapped the screen. _Contacts…contacts… There!_

Janet pressed it to her ear, breathing hard. She heard the doors slide open as the first ring came. _Come on, Stephen,_ she pleaded silently. _Pick up!_ It rang again, and again, and finally—

"Hello?"

"Stephen, remember that favor you owe me?" she whispered hurriedly. "I'm calling it in."

"As I recall, we're even now."

"Stephen, just shut up and listen to me okay? We had a deal, and I need you. Top floor of Oscorp Tower. _Now._ He's come for the _Darkhold._ "

"Who?"

She held her breath. The footsteps were drawing dangerously close now.

"Janet, who?"

"I've gotta go."

She hung up, hooking her phone back onto her belt and staring blankly ahead. She couldn't delay a moment longer, or she would lose her advantage. Shutting her eyes for the briefest of moments, she summoned her courage. Then she opened them and stepped around the corner.

Less than four meters away, she saw him advancing—the Ghost Rider. The Spirit of Vengeance that had never ceased haunting her. He was a deliverer of justice in all of its most brutal and relentless forms, and in her own mind, she was more than deserving of that punishment. But she was planning to avoid it for one more night if she could.

"Hey!" Janet called, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Remember me?"

He stopped, his fiery gaze burning straight through her. Slowly and deliberately, he unwrapped the chain from around his torso, and with a simple flick of his wrist, it burst into flame. She swallowed as the blinding lights continued to flash overhead. Red, white, red. And every other second, the entire hallway was plunged into darkness.

When that happened, the labyrinth of city lights just beyond the towering glass panes shone through, bouncing off the floors and casting their distorted shadows on the opposite wall. Everything became a dazzling cycle of colors, strobing until Janet thought she was going to be sick. But the Ghost was unfazed, and she saw him drawing back his right arm in preparation. Realizing that he was about to throw the chain, she sprinted toward him, dropping to her knees and sliding beneath his weapon as it launched like a coiled snake.

Sparks danced above her wide eyes, and then she was behind him. The emergency lights went dead as she thrust her left arm forward, preparing to usher forth a wave of umbrakinetic energy. But he remembered. He remembered that night, and he was not one to be fooled twice.

The Ghost spun faster than she could have anticipated. Something solid and white-hot lashed her arm, bypassing the thin fabric of her sleeve and searing the flesh beneath. Crying out in pain, she recoiled and instinctively gripped the wounded area with her right hand as her enemy advanced with hellish fury. There was no time for hesitation—no time for weakness.

Remembering how Strange had fought, she mimicked the gestures his scarred hands had made, and two large disks materialized in her grasp. But they did not crackle with fiery energy as his did. Instead, they hissed and whispered things, their rippling runes a deep violet. She raised them both in unison—just in time—as her opponent's gloved fist flew toward her face.

Catching the blow, Janet gritted her teeth and fought to hold him back. His raw physical strength was unmatched by any she had encountered before, her arms trembling violently and threatening to collapse. Where was Stephen?

The tower's structure briefly rumbled around them, and she heard the familiar whoosh of a helicopter's blade as it lifted off from the roof. At that moment, the Ghost Rider realized Janet was only acting as a distraction, and his glowing eyes flared. His skeletal jaw opened wide, emitting a bellow of rage, and he viciously thrust the disks aside. Her concentration was shattered, as were her shields, and he closed the remaining distance between them.

Leather-clad fingers closed around her throat and lifted her off her feet. Gasping and spluttering, Janet struggled to pry herself free from his death grip, but all efforts were in vain. Now that the _Darkhold_ had escaped him, there was nothing preventing the Rider from finishing her. Even now, his gaze was piercing the depths of her soul and dragging her guilt to the surface. Tears leaked from her eyes.

"I know," she croaked. "I know what I've done. So kill me…and end this."

He hesitated, and something passed between them, a feeling that she couldn't quite describe. Was it understanding? Mercy? A secret knowledge beyond her comprehension? Janet did not know, but whatever it was caused his hold on her to loosen ever so slightly.

Then there was a blinding flash. Glass shattered. She dropped and hit the floor. Grimacing, she managed to push herself up onto her elbows and raise her head. The Ghost had been struck by a powerful blast of energy and careened into the wall, but now he was back on his feet. Across from him stood, from Janet's point of view, the towering silhouette of Stephen Strange.

There was a gaping hole in the glass behind him, a frigid wind whipping through and causing his scarlet cloak to billow around him. His eyes were focused and fearless, glinting in the darkness, and when he glanced down at her, she knew what to do. Scrambling to her knees, she shifted her weight and crawled backwards.

The Rider roared and charged at him. Strange waved his arms, ushering forth a fiery portal. It swallowed his attacker whole and then swiftly closed behind him.

Silence fell. Janet breathed a sigh of relief, sitting up and cradling her arm in her lap. She no longer felt any pain where the chain had made contact, but that only worried her more. The affected skin was charred and blistering, and she knew then that it was a third-degree burn.

"Janet."

She glanced up and saw Stephen kneeling beside her.

"Let me take a look at that."

Carefully, he grasped her arm and drew it closer to him. Her first instinct was to resist, as she had trained herself to do whenever he was near her. But then she reminded herself that she did not have to wear an unfeeling mask to shield herself from him—not anymore.

"Let me guess, you have a spell that will make it all shiny and new again?" she quipped in an attempt to distract herself from the dread that was forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Correct."

Janet gaped at him. "Wait—what?"

He smiled, amused by her amazement. "I need you to sit very still, all right? Close your eyes and count to thirty."

"Stephen, I don't know—"

"You won't feel a thing," he assured her. "Trust me."

She stared at him, uncertain and afraid, but she had seen the impossible become possible. Having witnessed his spirit leave his body and then return to it sometime later, she could only guess at the limits of his powers. So she took a breath, shut her eyes, and began to count.

There was a metallic clink. A green glow behind the darkness of her closed lids. A strange hum. And then—

Her count ended at twelve.

When her eyes opened again, Janet found herself stumbling forward and falling against Stephen's chest. Both of them were standing. The glass was no longer broken. And her arm was healed.

"What—what did you do?" she stammered.

The room was spinning. Her thoughts were muddled. Her legs had turned to jelly. What just happened?

"Time is a funny thing—always so linear. But sometimes, there are small moments—singularities, if you will. Like black holes spread along the vastness of space-time. And within those black holes, the laws of nature are temporarily suspended. We're given the opportunity to change things, to see where we went wrong and try again."

Blinking as her surroundings began to come back into focus, Janet's brow furrowed, and she looked up at him. Something in his voice had changed. He wasn't giving her an explanation—he was making a confession.

"Stephen, what are you talking about?"

His hands were on her shoulders—she could feel them trembling.

"I haven't been honest with you, Janet, and I can't—" He stopped and swallowed. "I can't bear looking you in the eye for one more second, knowing that I never told you the truth—that I let you believe a lie."

Her heart beat faster. "I-I don't understand."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. But most of all, I'm sorry for the time that I wasted."

A tear escaped down her cheek, and she swiped it away. "You don't have to apologize again, Stephen. I—"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted firmly. "You deserved better. And you deserve to know why I did it."

She was at a loss for words. He had caught her off guard, and she was completely unprepared for whatever he was about to say.

"Janet, I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to listen. Please."

His eyes were glistening, his voice imploring her with a desperation she had never seen in him before. She did not stop him, did not discourage him from continuing, and so he did.

"All those years ago, when I left you, it wasn't because of your father. It wasn't because of my career. And it certainly wasn't because of you."

His hands had fallen to his sides now, curling and uncurling as he struggled to speak each and every word. His voice was shaking, and she was already breaking.

"When I went back to Nebraska that Christmas, my mother decided to make a big fuss over my birthday. She planned a party and invited far more people than I cared to see. I just wanted to relax. I wanted to get away from the chaos of New York for a little while, have some peace and quiet."

Stephen paused and took a breath before trudging on. "My sister Donna and I—before I went away to school—we always used to go swimming in the pond behind our house. Usually at midnight. We thought it was more rebellious and exciting that way."

The furrow between Janet's brows steadily deepened as she listened. What did this have to do with anything?

"So, the night before my birthday, we decided to sneak out and go for a swim. The moon gave us just enough light to see by, and the water was freezing. We made it a challenge between the two of us—who could stand it the longest.

"We had only been out there for a little while when I decided to go under. It was just for a few seconds. But when I came up—" His voice caught, and he looked away.

Her eyes widened in realization. She suddenly felt like she was going to be sick.

Several moments passed before he was able to regain enough composure to continue. "When I came up, she was gone. Just—vanished. I called for her, looked for her everywhere. But she never answered."

The tears in his eyes finally spilled over, and he turned his back on her. His head hung with shame as he moved to the previously broken window and remained there.

"It…took me a while to find her. But I couldn't just…I couldn't just leave her there."

Janet swallowed hard, blinking in a futile attempt to hold back her own tears. She didn't know what to think, what to say. Never had she dreamed…

"There was a funeral," Stephen went on. "We grieved. No one blamed me, but I knew they wanted to. I knew that it was my fault. When I went back to Columbia, I never told anyone what had happened. I didn't want their pity…or their judgment. I didn't want to see the way they would look at me if they knew—if they knew that I let my own sister drown."

Her chest was clenched so tight that she could scarcely breathe. She could tangibly feel his pain stabbing through her as if it were her own. And when he finally turned toward her once more, she met his shattered gaze with her own.

"I couldn't face you," he admitted. "I had already lost someone I loved, and the thought of one day losing you—" He stopped and shook his head. "I was afraid. Afraid of death. Afraid of the future. And more than anything, I was afraid that one day, I would fail again.

"So I pushed you away, hoping to shield myself from the pain. But my life…my life after that was an empty shell. I made the decision not to care about anyone or anything but my work. I only wanted to prove just how infallible Doctor Stephen Strange could be. How he could do the impossible. But it was a lie that I told myself every day to bury my guilt."

Pausing, he swallowed and summoned his courage.

"Janet, I didn't leave you because I didn't love you. I left you because…because I did."

Hastily, she swiped at the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, but they just kept coming. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"But I'm done wasting time," he said, taking a step toward her. "I know that it might be too late for you to ever think of me as you once did, but all I can do is ask that you forgive me for everything that I put you through, for abandoning you when I should've been there for you. And the truth is, Janet—the truth is that I want to right where things went wrong between us. Maybe you've moved on, and maybe you never want to see me again, but I had to tell you. I had to tell you the truth of how I feel about you."

He was breathing hard, his cheeks wet and glistening, and she was speechless. All of this was happening so suddenly that her head was spinning. But one thing she knew for certain—she couldn't hate him. Not anymore.

"Say something," Stephen pleaded quietly.

The desperation in his voice crushed her, fear and hope mingling until they were indistinguishable from each other. He was bracing himself for her rejection, and she was contending with the possibility of having her heart broken again. He was willing to give their relationship a second chance, but was she?

She thought of Jack, Norman, Oscorp—everything she had been working toward. If she did this, she risked losing it all. But when she looked at the changed man standing before her, humbled and sincere, who she had once loved so deeply, she knew what she wanted. And in that moment, she made her decision. The risk was one she was willing to take.

Swiftly and suddenly, Janet closed the remaining distance between them, her arms sliding up and around his neck as she pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Stephen seemed stunned at first, but then he embraced her. One hand was at her back, the other on her cheek. A green light emanating from the eye-shaped amulet dangling around his neck glowed between their beating hearts.

She was no longer certain if the tears streaming down her face were his or her own. Where thirteen years of pain and resentment had once separated them, now there was—at last—understanding. For so long, she had denied that she cared. For so long, she had tried to forget. All in vain. And now, after all this time, they had somehow found their way back to each other.

It was too good to be true, and yet—it was happening. Janet did not want to let him go, for she feared that if she did, she would realize that this was some kind of illusion. So she gripped him tighter, pressing closer and kissing him with increasing desperation. His fingers ignited a fire against her skin, his lips capturing hers with dizzying fervor.

It was perfect oblivion. But it could not last forever, and eventually, they were forced to come up for air. Her eyes remained closed as he rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His left hand shifted from her back to her other cheek, cradling her face between his slightly trembling fingers. And then he kissed her once more, softly and tenderly, savoring each moment.

When their lips parted and she finally opened her eyes, Janet found herself gazing into his blue-green ones, flecks of gold dancing within them. It was only then that she realized how incredibly still and silent their surroundings had become. The sirens had ceased their screaming, the lights had gone dark, and not a soul stirred. It was almost as if…

She turned and looked out the windows. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. The world outside was a frozen mass of neon grids and lines of traffic.

"Even rarer are the moments when time stands still," Stephen murmured, his gaze remaining fixed on her.

"How did you—?"

He tapped a finger against the amulet whose eye was still glowing green. "The same way I stopped Dormammu."

She stared at him, feeling impossibly overwhelmed and at a loss for words.

"I can't keep this up forever, Janet," he explained. "In a few moments, time will resume its natural course, and I must go before Oscorp finds out who helped you defeat the Ghost Rider."

"What about the _Darkhold_?"

"It can wait. Convince Norman that it is safe to return, and in the meantime, I will figure out a plan."

He was right. Maintaining her cover was a necessity. No one could know what had transpired between them.

Swallowing, she nodded and steeled herself for what was to come. "Norman has made a deal with the United States military, using Oscorp to manufacture and supply weapons. I don't know what plans he has for the _Darkhold_ , but it's likely extremely dangerous and beyond his control. He's a businessman, not a sorcerer."

"Then we have to stop him before it's too late. If you can, find out how he intends to use it. And Janet?" Reaching up, Stephen caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Be careful."

She lightly laid her fingers over his and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be in touch soon."


	36. Chapter 36

_The colors blinded her. Everything spun. There was a sharp wind against her face, blowing dirt and rocks into her eyes. Cassie collapsed, curling into a ball and screaming for it to end, screaming for help._

She awoke with a start, tears streaking down her face and a tight pain in her chest. She was alone in her new bedroom. As her feet hit the floor, she stood, leaning against the wall for support. What had woken her from the hellish nightmare...or memory?

There was a knock on the front door, and Cassie glanced down at her clock-6:21 a.m. Quickly, she grabbed her sweatshirt off her bedroom door and slid it over her t-shirt, walking out of her room and toward the front door. She was half groggy still and didn't hesitate before opening it.

Cassie's eyes grew wide. There was stranger on her step in the early traces of light.

"Hello. My name is Norman. May I come in?"

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie curled her feet under her on the couch, staring at this stranger. His request to come in had been associated with a quick nod at the gun by his side.

He was alone. Her eyes roved over him, his suit, his unnerving demeanor. For a man who seemed to normally be well put together, his current aura told a different tale.

"I have a proposition for you. I would like to offer you a job."

She clenched her teeth and waited.

"Cassie," he spoke kindly, "I'm a friend. A friend well aware of your abilities."

Her chest tightened, and she shook her head, confused.

"Oh yes-Bleecker Street, perhaps?"

Her eyes widened involuntarily.

"Yes. I know all about that. But I'm here, as an ally, to offer you the opportunity to work with me. I believe that you're special," he smiled. "Very special, and I can help you reach your true potential."

Something in his tone warned her, warned her that this man was _not_ her friend.

"I see..." she finally spoke.

He paused, tilting his head and observing her. "It's interesting..."

Her eyes narrowed questioningly.

"You seem harmless enough...as harmless as a child. But you know differently, as do I. Oh, you could be very useful. What do you say?"

She took a deep breath and let her eyes fall to the floor, then glanced quickly at his left hand, which held his gun.

"May I-?" Her voice was cut off as her phone rang. Once again, her throat tightened in fear.

"Go ahead," he murmured. "Answer it."

She picked up her cellphone from the table beside her and accepted the call. "Umm...hi," she murmured, afraid to say Stark's name aloud.

"Cassie, baby, hope I didn't wake you. Did some research on our friend-"

"Stark, wait-" she interjected, afraid that Norman might overhear.

"No, listen, you were right about Janet. She's been involved in some shady business working with Oscorp, and her records-"

Cassie quickly hung up the phone as she saw Norman's eyes widening. He stood, not hesitating.

"Come with me." His tone was much more severe now.

She hesitated.

"Come with me!" he yelled at her.

There was a click, and the gun pointed at her.

"Can I g-get dressed?" she squeaked, trying to buy time.

Norman glanced her up and down and then smirked. "No. Let's go."

She stood shakily and followed him to the front door. On the way out, she grabbed her keys. She realized that taking half a second to lock her new apartment was a mistake as she felt the cool metal of the gun against her neck.

"Let's go," he whispered.

She shivered, standing barefoot on the landing in her sweatshirt and shorts. He pushed her in front of him, forcing her down the steps, around the corner, and toward an adjoining alley. They continued walking, but Norman slid the gun down her back till it hit the small of her back, just above the waistband of her shorts. His other hand was placed lightly on her arm. It did not hurt-it was just uncomfortable.

"Don't be difficult," he whispered in her ear. "We're getting in a cab. I'm going to put my gun away. Don't move unless I tell you."

Soon, the gun was replaced by Norman's hand sliding around her waist, squeezing her hip. He called a cab, and he pushed her inside, giving the driver an address. Cassie closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Norman reached over and pried her fingers open, causing her to flinch slightly. He pulled her phone and keys away from her and slid them into his pockets.

"Won't be needing them," he smiled.

The drive seemed to last an eternity before the cab finally stopped and Norman motioned for her to exit. An airport. It was small, probably privately owned. A single helicopter stood at the center of a strip. Norman paid their driver, and he sped off.

Suddenly, the cool metal of the gun had slipped under her shirt and was pressed to her bare skin. Her foot slid, and she tripped, landing hard against her sore ribs. Norman yanked her roughly to her feet, but she did nothing, not yet. Cassie knew she could, but who knew how many soldiers this man had just waiting to hurt her?

Her vision was blurry as she tried to control her anger, not watching were she was going and letting Norman lead her. A man stood next to the helicopter, fingers laced together, a smile on his face. He appeared to be not much older than her-maybe four years-five at the most. His hair was dark and slicked back, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. He was handsome, but his smile made her nervous. She noticed that he was as well dressed, if not more so, than Norman. His eyes were narrow, a calculating look focused directly on her. It frightened her.

Norman pulled away his gun, and the stranger stepped forward, tilting her head back with his hand and staring into her face.

"This is her?"

"No need to be rough, Jack," Norman smiled. "She's cooperated brilliantly."

"Oh, my apologizes, Cassie. I was only admiring how beautiful you are."

The feigned politeness these men gave her scared her all the more. Jack slid his hand above the crook of her elbow and led her toward the helicopter.

"If you'll step on, please."

She did as he asked, climbing up and into the machine as Jack's hand guided her. Cassie squeezed into a spot near the back of the helicopter and closed her eyes, praying silently in fear. Norman pushed a seat back and sat in front of her, Jack next to her, and another man she hadn't noticed before climbing into the pilot's chair.

Her hands trembled, and Jack sweetly smiled at her.

"It will be all right," he said, more genuinely this time, and she coughed nervously.

Ringing filled her ears, and Norman pulled her phone from his pocket.

"Stephen Strange..." he murmured, "Well, what a pleasant surprise. Would you like to talk to him?" he asked politely.

"No thank you," Cassie spit out.

Her anger was threatening to bubble over, and she suddenly clenched her seat with both hands, squeezing her eyes tight. It was now or never.

"Getting angry?" Norman inquired.

Her mouth opened, but no words emerged, and she tightened her face in concentration. Suddenly, Jack was forcing a cloth over her mouth and nose, and Cassie fought furiously against him, but it was too late. She could feel the dizziness taking over. She slumped into Jack's lap, and he placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"Janet's calling," she heard Norman mutter before she passed out.


	37. Chapter 37

"Janet!"

His relieved voice crackled through the speaker that was pressed to her ear, her tired gaze roaming over the city as sunlight streamed through the windows of her office.

"Norman, the intruder has been dealt with. I don't think he'll be bothering us again. Repairs are being made as we speak, but as you might assume, regular operations have been suspended for the time being."

"You survived a dangerous encounter. More than that—you were able to defeat a worthy opponent. I'm proud of you, Janet, and I am forever in your debt."

"Nonsense, sir. I was just doing my job."

He chuckled. "Well, now that this crisis has been averted, Jack and I will return to Oscorp shortly. I have a surprise for you, one that I'm sure you will find _very_ fascinating."

Something in his tone caused an uneasy stirring in the pit of her stomach, but she forced a facade of cheer. "I…can't wait to see it."

"Miss Carlisle."

She turned and saw her assistant standing in the open doorway, his eyes even rounder than usual.

"Excuse me, Norman."

"Of course. I'm sure you have important matters to attend to."

Janet ended the call and lowered the cellphone to her side. "What is it, Lucas?"

"There's uh—" He cleared his throat nervously. "There's someone here to see you."

Her brow furrowed. "I have no appointments."

"He, um… He claims he doesn't need one."

She took a step toward him, her mouth hardening into a stern line. "Who is _he?_ "

At that moment, a man in a dark suit nudged his way past Lucas and strode into the room like he owned the place. Whipping off his Police sunglasses as if he had been waiting for just the right moment to do it, he greeted her with a winning smile and a twinkle in his eye.

It was Tony Stark.

Janet's lips parted in surprise. What was he doing here?

"Miss Carlisle. It truly is a pleasure to see you again."

"Mr. Stark," she returned uncertainly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He tapped the tented lenses against his open palm, observing her with calculating precision. "Heard that you had a break-in. Wanted to see the extent of the damage for myself and…offer a helping hand if needed."

"Your concern is appreciated, but the damage is not nearly as extensive as the media would have you believe."

"Not to your state of the art facilities—no. But a lot of people died last night. You have my condolences."

His voice had lowered and become bitingly sarcastic. Janet crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing.

"Strange. You say that but…I don't think that's why you're here."

Stark rewarded her with a smirk and a nod. "You're right. It's not. I guess congratulations are in order."

"For?"

"For making it to the top rung. I've gotta say though, I always thought Norman was more of a science guy."

She stared at him, her jaw clenching. It seemed he had his own sources inside the military.

"But I understand," he went on, shoving both hands into his pockets. "War makes money. You provide the weapons. You get rich."

"Did you come here to lecture me, Stark?"

"No. I came here to warn you. I was in that business once. I know what it does to people."

"Then once again, I would thank you," Janet responded tightly, "but our business is no concern of—"

"Let me rephrase that," he interjected, raising a hand. He regarded her coolly, his dark eyes flashing. "I know that you and your boss and your brother are elbow deep in a lot of things you'd rather the public not find out about. And I know how far you're willing to go to cover up your dirty little fingerprints, so I'm going to ask you one simple question. Cassie Powell—what did you do to her?"

She blinked, her brows knitting in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Stark stepped closer, his voice becoming scarcely more than a whisper. "Did you abduct her? Torture her? Or did you snuff her out because she knew too much?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Janet insisted, "but you would be wise to investigate matters more thoroughly before hurling accusations at someone like me."

"Are you threatening me, Miss Carlisle?"

"You're a powerful man, Mr. Stark, but you're far from invincible. You have blood on your hands just like the rest of us. So you'd better step carefully, because you're one bad day away from a penitentiary."

He pressed his lips into a hard line, his burning gaze challenging her. But she refused to back down, and finally, he appeared to come to a decision. With a resigned nod, Stark took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Well, I'm glad we had this little chat. I already had my opinions about Oscorp, but thank you for confirming them." Pushing his sunglasses back onto his face, he smiled, but it was a mirthless gesture. "See you around."

And with that, he turned sharply on his heel and headed for the exit, which had been shut behind Lucas when he anxiously excused himself from the unscheduled appointment. Now, Janet's glaring eyes followed Stark's retreating back until he disappeared from view, leaving the door to her office standing wide open.

Why had he questioned her about Cassie? Clearly, she had gone missing, but what made him think that she or Oscorp had anything to do with it? To brazenly walk into her office and accuse her directly—the nerve of that man!

Janet's hands balled into fists, but her blazing fury was instantly snuffed out when she remembered Stephen. Did he know about her disappearance? If he didn't, he needed to be told. But that unpleasant phone call would have to wait. Jack and Norman would be arriving soon, and she needed to ensure that all of the necessary preparations were made.

AAAAAAAAAA

Janet stood alone and in silence, watching as the floor numbers steadily counted down. She had intended to meet them in the hangar, but Norman had requested otherwise. So instead, she was making the long descent to the basement levels, a highly restricted area beneath the tower. This was where Oscorp's most secret experiments were carried out. It was a lab, but it was also a prison, a place where covert operations that fell into the "illegal" category could proceed without interruption.

Sometimes they held people here against their will. Political and social rivals, inhumans that would serve as test subjects. For years, Janet had attempted to ease her conscience by telling herself that all of it was being done in the name of science, that they were working toward a greater goal whose stakes eclipsed individuals' rights.

But now she saw Norman straying from the creed he had always claimed to uphold. He wasn't brokering peace—he was facilitating war. And he was not sharing their knowledge with the rest of the world—he was hoarding it in his ivory tower. When the powers of the terrigen crystals had been forced upon her, he had viewed the incident as yet another advantage in his struggle against S.H.I.E.L.D. And because of that, Jack had envied her new abilities and submitted to the transformation willingly.

Now they were both weapons to be deployed at Norman's leisure, and she was beginning to wonder if he viewed them as anything more than that. Once, she had truly believed that he cared for them and wanted what was best for them. But doubt was creeping in, causing her to question what was truth and what was lies. After all, he had not hesitated when he left her to face the Ghost Rider alone.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors dinged open. Janet inhaled sharply, the cold, sterile air stinging her nostrils. Beyond was a dimly lit corridor with concrete floors and sickly green lights lining the walls. Not a soul stirred as she exited the elevator and started walking. Each step she took echoed, her long black coat flapping behind her.

She had no idea what sort of surprise Norman had in store for her, and the prospect of the unknown made her uneasy. Ever since she had delivered the _Darkhold_ into his hands, he had not been the same, and the sudden changes in his behavior reminded her of the warnings Stephen and Wong had given her about the dangers of such an ancient and mysterious book. She remembered well its seductive call, its whispers of unlimited power and complete control. Perhaps the labyrinth of arcane knowledge contained within was proving too much for Norman to handle.

She passed by many rooms filled with grim-faced technicians who peered at her through glass windows. The distant humming and hissing of machines drew unwanted memories to the surface, and Janet fought to stifle them. She increased her pace, her breaths coming more quickly. Her heart was pounding. Sweat beaded on her temple.

Finally, she rounded a corner and saw a familiar silhouette lingering near an open doorway. Relief flooded through her, and she grinned.

"Jack!"

He turned. "Janet, you're just in time."

"For what?"

He nodded toward the small room on her right, and she followed his gaze. Her smile vanished in an instant.

"Janet! Come in," Norman urged in a voice so abnormally cheerful that it sent a chill down her spine.

She blinked and looked back at her brother.

"Go ahead," he told her quietly. "This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it? Revenge?"

She swallowed. Her tongue had turned to lead. Slowly, reluctantly, she entered the room. A large, metallic chair was inclined at a forty-five degree angle, and Cassie Powell was bound to it. Her eyes immediately found Janet's, and she felt a sudden pang of guilt stab through her chest.

"I thought it was about time that we recruited some new assets," Norman explained. "People who could be useful to us as Oscorp continues to grow and expand its influence."

"Norman, she's unpredictable," Janet protested as calmly and evenly as she could manage. "She's a liability. You said so yourself."

"Plans change. S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone. The Avengers are divided and leaderless. The time has come for a new entity to fill the power vacuum left in the wake of these disastrous attempts to protect humanity."

Her mind was racing, her stomach turning. Stark was right. They had taken Cassie, and she had unknowingly lied directly to his face.

"But before we offer Miss Powell the opportunity to take part in such life-changing exploits, I wanted to let you have this, Janet. She is Strange's apprentice, after all, and I would assume that he cares for her very deeply. So what better way is there to strike back at him? To make him hurt for all of the pain that he's caused you?"

She stared at him, horrified. This was her gift? This was what he wanted her to do?

"Take as long as you like," said Norman, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Just don't break any bones. We need her in one piece."

Without another word, he walked past her and out of the room. Jack winked at her, and then he closed the door with a dull, metallic clang. Now it was just the two of them, alone in a green windowless room deep within the bowels Oscorp. Janet's head hung for a moment, her eyes screwed shut, but then she opened them and glanced up. A camera was installed in the upper left corner of the room, its pinprick of red light capturing her every move.

But when her gaze returned to Cassie, a lump formed in her throat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She couldn't do it. Norman was right—Stephen had done everything in his power to protect Cassie. How could she harm her?

And yet, if she refused, Norman would know that she was going soft. He would realize that her feelings for Stephen had resurfaced and had compromised her loyalty to him. If she couldn't bring herself to take out her anger on someone she didn't even know, what use would she be to him? She would be a failure in his eyes. And what would happen then?

Janet clenched her jaw, her entire body trembling, her indecision tearing her apart. What should she do? What _could_ she do?


	38. Chapter 38

Her fingers barely grazed each other, metal digging into her skin at her wrists and ankles. Cassie's eyes were focused on Janet, though she tried to show no fear. She'd been right. Janet was evil-pure evil. She would do what Norman wanted.

Cassie's body was trembling, but she realized that it was with anger, not fear. It pulled through her entire body, and Cassie couldn't even meet Janet's eyes.

Seconds passed-terribly long seconds. The green lights that flickered above made her sick to her stomach, but Cassie couldn't move. Finally, she spoke, breaking the tense silence.

"Well?" Her voice cracked with anger.

There was no response, and Cassie glanced up to look at Janet. "Take your revenge," she practically spat.

Janet's eyes met Cassie's, and her brow furrowed. Janet looked...confused.

"What? Can't do it?" Cassie sneered.

Janet's eyes hardened for a moment, and she glanced upward toward the camera. More silence passed between them. Cassie's thoughts shifted from the current moment.

Norman and Jack had shared nothing with her. The long walk down to her cell had been excruciating. She'd passed in and out of consciousness, the drugs they'd knocked her out with still ravaging her system. Jack had practically dragged her.

"Janet?" a voice crackled into the room.

Her thoughts snapped back to the present.

Janet's eyes widened, and she glanced up at the camera. "Yes, Norman. I'm sorry, I guess I'm still exhausted from my previous altercation."

"Take your time."

Janet's eyes flickered over to her, hardened now. Slowly, her movements echoed her responses, and she came to Cassie's side, grasping her jaw. Cassie squirmed, breathing heavily as her face was pressed into Janet's hand.

"How is Stephen?"

Cassie didn't answer at first, fury welling up inside her. "You just better be glad that these drugs still have me...dizzy," she muttered through clenched teeth.

She'd already tried to use her abilities, but to no avail. She was much to woozy to focus. Janet's eyes flickered again-with confusion? Hesitancy? Anger? She jerked Cassie's head back further.

"I asked you a question," she replied calmly.

Cassie's eyes darted back and forth.

"Cassie..." Janet's voice softened along with her gaze, and she released her grip.

Cassie gasped, violet light emanating between Janet's fingers. Her eyes widened, and she stifled a scream in her throat. Norman wanted her alive. Janet would remember that-right?

She felt panic rise in her as Janet wound her fingers through the air, her light growing. Suddenly, Cassie's chair flew backwards and crashed into the wall behind her. A scream erupted from her throat as her face hit the floor.

"Janet-" she croaked out, feeling a drop of blood trickle from her nose.

The chair was lifted up again, and Cassie felt her shackles fall from her wrist and ankles. Glancing up, she saw Janet preparing to let loose another blow, her eyes wide.

Suddenly, Cassie was thrown to the other side of the room, slamming into the concrete. Involuntarily, she shrieked, balling her fists against the sides of her head and trying desperately to rid herself of the fuzzy world before her and use her own powers in return.

"Stop!" she cried, pain filling her as Janet lifted her from the ground once again, letting her fall against the floor.

Cassie heard the sound of a bulb cracking as she was slammed once again against the hard concrete. Her senses were so blurred that she couldn't quite make Janet out. There seemed to be three or four of her now.

Suddenly, Cassie was transported.

 _She stood on a desolate New York street, wind blowing trash across the road. There was a strange buzzing in the air that she couldn't quite place. Oscorp? Norman? Where was Janet?  
_  
 _Something was off, and Cassie shivered as she turned in a wide circle. What she saw behind her made her fall to her knees, crying out helplessly at the sight. Bodies-dozens of them-hundreds. Blood filled the street in pools, red and sticky, covering the hands she lay on the black asphalt.  
_  
 _"_ _Why?" a voice cried out to her right.  
_  
 _Cassie turned, horrified, and screamed-a scream that burned her throat and caused convulsing sobs to follow. Stephen Strange. He lay in a pool of his own blood, hair matted and scratches covering his face. Over half of his body had been burned away, leaving charred, steaming skin.  
_  
 _"_ _Why?" he croaked again. "Why did you kill me? Kill all of us?"_

Suddenly, Cassie was back on the floor of her cell, on her hands and knees. A terrifying realization came over her, and she screamed, falling over herself as she backed into a corner. She couldn't stop the screaming, covering her eyes with her hands.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!" she shrieked to no one in particular.

Finally, she pulled her hands away from her face, expecting to see them covered in blood. Janet stood near the door, eyes wide with shock. Her hands trembled, and she stared at Cassie with such fear that it surprised her.

Suddenly, Janet turned on her heel and stormed from the room. Cassie curled back into a ball, sobbing and screaming Stephen's name. She didn't do it. It was a vision. She didn't do it. She began murmuring that phrase to herself, again and again.

"I didn't..." she whispered again, letting her sobs subside into silent tears.

AAAAAAAAAA

Jack had come for her hours after her encounter with Janet. He'd forced her from the ground, pulling her along until they had reached the elevator. She had taken no notice of her surroundings.

Cassie's head throbbed, dried blood against her hairline and along her limbs. Her ribs ached tremendously, and her vision remained blurry. With heavy footsteps, she followed Jack into the small, white, sterilized room. He forced her onto the bed, strapping her down. Then, without a word, he left.

"Hello darling," an overly cheerful woman followed in his footsteps.

She bustled about the room, pulling things from drawers and slamming things onto the counter.

"This is my first time administering a drug like this," she squealed. "I'm very excited!"

Her pep made Cassie want to puke. A moment later she was at her side, needle in hand.

"Wh-what's-?"

"Same drug as before," she smiled. "Just in a much more powerful dose!"

Before Cassie could even respond, the needle was in her arm, and she cringed.

The effects were slow, and the woman babbled on, cleaning up, sticking a bandaid on Cassie, and beginning to tend to her wounds. Suddenly, her vision began to go-the woman looked different. There were four of her, and they wobbled about like a paper cutout in the wind. Her voice had become much higher pitched, like a child's scream.

Cassie tried to reach her hands up to cover her ears but couldn't. There was a cool cloth against her forehead, the blood being wiped away, but there was a new pain throbbing through her.

And suddenly, everything went black again.


	39. Chapter 39

When the door slammed behind her, Janet found herself breathless and disoriented. Her blood was boiling, hatred fueling the power that was coursing through her veins. She could hardly see straight, and the intensity of her raging emotions made her wonder if they were even hers. She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Swaying slightly, she fled as quickly as she could manage. Nauseating green lights blurred together on either side of her, stinging her eyes as they darted wildly about. All she could think of was finding an exit, an escape. She had to get out of here.

Suddenly, Janet slammed into something solid and strong. Two firm hands grabbed her shoulders and steadied her, though she immediately fought to free herself from them.

"Janet! Janet, what happened in there?"

It was Jack. But she didn't want to talk, didn't want to discuss anything that had gone on inside that room.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, shoving him away from her.

She feared that if he didn't leave her sight soon, she might hurt him too. Blindly, she kept going, and no one else dared to stop her. The elevator stood waiting, and she stormed inside, crushing the button until the doors finally closed.

Falling back against its metallic interior, Janet stared at her own distorted and disheveled reflection, afraid to close her eyes. What had she just done? One moment, she had been in control, and the next…she had found herself inside Cassie's mind. Without even consciously trying, she had amplified her captive's fears to the point of hysteria. Never before had she invaded the thoughts of another and achieved such a thing. Never had she even known that she was capable of it.

The realization terrified her. Just when she was beginning think that she was attaining some amount of authority over her abilities and the darkness inside her, she was proven utterly wrong.

Janet had not wanted to harm Cassie. And yet, once she had started, she had found it difficult to stop. She had _enjoyed_ it. And that was the worst part. She was ashamed and disgusted by what she had done, and the mere idea of Stephen ever finding out about it made her feel as if a stake had been driven through her heart.

How could she ever face him?

AAAAAAAAAA

The rest of the day passed in a blurry haze, and Janet soon found herself sitting alone on the sofa in her apartment. The sun had set an hour or so before, leaving her in complete darkness. So she had turned on a single lamp in the corner that cast a faint, warm glow over the room. She wore nothing but a long black bathrobe that was fastened at her waist, her dark shoulder-length hair still slightly damp from the shower she had taken earlier.

The television screen in front of her was blank and silent, a bowl of half-eaten pasta and her cellphone on the coffee table. The phone's seemingly constant vibrations had stilled for the moment, but Stephen had already called her three times since she had gotten home.

She had ignored all of them. He had left voicemails, but she had not listened to them. Right now, she could not even bear to hear the sound of his voice.

For hours now, Janet had been pondering and agonizing over how to handle this extremely delicate situation. Telling him the truth was of course the simplest solution, but it was also the option with the most severe consequences. He would certainly lose all desire to be with her if he knew what she had done, even if it was for the sake of maintaining her cover. And even that was only partially true.

The alternative was to lie. She could feign having no knowledge of Cassie's disappearance at all, let alone the fact that it was Norman who had abducted her. She could pretend as if nothing had changed, nothing had gone wrong, and she would still have Stephen. That was what mattered.

A sudden knock at her door startled her from her thoughts, her face jerking toward it. _What now?_ Slowly, she rose and crossed the room, moving quietly to the peephole. Peering into it, Janet felt an electric shock jolt through her chest.

It was Stephen.

For the briefest of moments, she considered pretending that she was not home. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Clearly, he was concerned about her. So instead, she unlocked the door and then opened it.

He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw her, then shook his head. "I don't know what's going on with no one answering my calls today. You had me worried, Janet."

"I'm sorry, I—" She stopped and swallowed hard. "It's been a long day."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Maybe you should come inside first," she suggested, stepping back and opening the door wider.

"Right," he replied with a light laugh, recognizing the ridiculousness of him remaining in the hallway of her apartment building.

He entered the room, his cloak releasing from his shoulders and floating near the kitchen. She closed and locked the door behind him. When she turned around, Janet took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips.

"Okay so the good news first. I convinced Norman that it was safe to come back, and he brought the _Darkhold_ with him."

"And the bad?" Stephen inquired.

"I think he's doubting my loyalty to him. He keeps testing me. If we wait much longer, I'm afraid that it might be too late."

"Janet," his features had become very serious now, "are you all right?"

It seemed that she had not been hiding her feelings as well as she'd thought. Blinking, she swallowed again and looked him in the eye. "No, Stephen."

He stepped closer as Janet inhaled a shaky breath.

"I'm afraid," she admitted.

"Of him?"

"He's going mad. He isn't the man I once knew."

"Then don't go back to him," Stephen pleaded.

Reaching up, he rested his hand against the side of her neck, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

"I have no choice," she insisted. "I'm the only one with inside access to Oscorp."

"Two days then. Two more days. And on the third, we go for the book."

Fear flashed across her mind as she thought of Cassie. It was only a matter of time before Stephen found out the truth, and that time was going to be a lot shorter than she had originally anticipated.

"All right," she agreed finally with a weak nod.

"Janet," he murmured, drawing her gaze back to his, "soon this will all be over. You can leave it behind—Norman, Oscorp. We can be together."

Tears were welling in her eyes, her throat constricting. "Like we always should've been."

She saw his gaze drift down to her lips and then back to her eyes, as if asking for permission. She leaned closer to him, longing to forget. Ignoring reality.

Stephen inclined his head and tilted it slightly to one side, his other arm sliding around her waist and drawing her to him just as he had before. Janet closed her eyes, feeling his breath against her skin in that instant before his lips collided with hers. And then she was seeing stars. Hands pressed against his chest, her fingers curled into the blue fabric of his robe. His kiss was rapidly deepening, but though it had succeeded in obliterating her thoughts, a subconscious wave of terror suddenly surged to the surface and seized her. Vividly, she recalled the last time she had given in to her volatile emotions—the last time she had lost control.

"Wait," Janet gasped as his lips moved to her neck. "Stephen, wait. Stop."

He drew back just enough to look into her eyes, locks of dark hair falling over his furrowed brow. "What's wrong?"

"I-I can't," she stammered. "I can't do this. I don't want to hurt you."

He blinked in confusion. "Janet, what are you talking about?"

Heart pounding, she disentangled herself from him and backed away. "I-I thought I was in control. But I'm not. I do things I don't mean to—hurt people I don't want to."

"I'm not afraid," Stephen declared, following her.

She held out both arms as if to fend him off. "You're not now, but you haven't seen what I have. You don't know what I'm capable of. Even I don't."

"Janet, why can't you just tell me what's going on? You know that I'll understand—"

"No," she interrupted, leaving no room for debate. "I-I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. I'm putting you in danger."

His face fell, his lips pressing into a hard line. "Are you talking about us or the mission?"  
"All of it," she choked.

Stephen visibly flinched as her words stung him, but then he shook his head and dismissed them. "I'm choosing to be here, Janet," he insisted. "I'm here because—"

"Stop," she said again. "Just stop. Please."

Her heightened senses had detected something, a faint energy signature. She had never noticed it before. It was coming from the kitchen behind her.

Stephen was staring at her, his features stunned, angry, and hurt all at once. But she was not going to say another word—not until her suspicions were either confirmed or proven false.

"Fine," he muttered, snatching his cloak and throwing it around his shoulders.

Then he stormed from her apartment, the door slamming behind him. Immediately, Janet moved to the row of black cabinets above the far counter. Running her hand along the undersides of them, her fingers finally found what they had been seeking. She ripped it free and then held it out in her open palm—a small recording device.

Her apartment was bugged.

Janet's jaw clenched, fury erupting inside her as she crushed it into tiny pieces. Norman. Norman had done this.


	40. Chapter 40

Cassie let her body go limp. It was too difficult to fight the drugs that swirled inside her.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" a voice asked her, low-a snarl.

She nodded weakly, trying not to look at her captor.

"Then get up," he sneered at her.

She struggled to her feet and staggered forward, catching herself against the wall. "I-I can't!" she cried out, feeling utterly helpless.

A rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder and flung her against the floor.

"You will," he muttered, his voice cold and indifferent. "Do it."

Crawling forward, she pulled herself up and focused her attention on the other man in front of her. He was round and squat, balding on top, though rather young and without wrinkles. His eyes were wide with fear, and he shook in his metal chair.

Cassie turned to stare at her guard. He was a tall man, towering over her. His red hair was bright, and he looked like a walking flame. He held a syringe in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Do it," he reiterated.

She looked helplessly at the prisoner, who seemed to gaze at her with a cry for help.

"Fine." Her voice steeled itself, and she turned to face the guard defiantly.

"Make one wrong move, and I pull the trigger."

She let her anger pulse through her and turned her attention back to the prisoner. Suddenly, she let it fly, but not at the prisoner-at her guard. He fired a bullet right as her blast hit him. He crumpled against the wall, blood oozing from his head, and she collapsed in pain, the bullet having found a home in her lower gut.

She couldn't move, couldn't think-the pain was too great. Her vision faltered, and she felt the pinprick of a needle in the side of her neck.

"Not again, Cassie," a cold voice drifted into her fading consciousness.

AAAAAAAAAA

She awoke in a new room, sickly geeen lights above her. She was alone. Under her shirt, Cassie found her midsection wrapped in thick, gauzy bandages. The pain was so strong in her abdomen that it felt like she'd been punched a hundred times with bricks.

As she tried to stand, an invisible hand pushed her back down. Cassie felt such a wave of nausea that she puked all over the floor. Everything spun, and she suddenly began seeing strangers in her room.

"Oh, Cassie," a voice murmured.

Steve. It was Steve.

"You-you came to get me!" she squealed in delight.

He approached her and knelt by her side. She stared into his blue eyes, emotion building inside her. She reached out for his hand, but he pulled it back.

"No, I didn't."

Suddenly, he was jumping on top of her and clawing at her face-scratching, drawing blood, tearing at her eyes. She screamed, trying to push Steve off of her, but it was no use. He was stronger, and she felt all her strength leave her body.

And then he was gone.

She lay curled up and alone-bleeding, crying. And then there was another-Stephen Strange. And another-Tony Stark. And another-her mother. Her father, her uncle, her first grade teacher. They kept coming, one after the other.

Cassie finally huddled in a ball, screaming relentlessly until they left her alone-quit hurting her.

"Please," she weakly called out.

AAAAAAAAAA

She lay on another hospital bed with fresh wounds, strapped down. Norman entered and closed her door, staring disdainfully at her.

"Why make this so difficult?" he muttered. "You could do great things."

"I will never-never do what you ask," she spat.

Squirming, she tried to glare right into his eyes. Norman sighed and pulled up a chair beside her bed. He took her face in one hand and gazed on it absently.

"So much potential..." He let his voice drift off, and he stood, moving to the counter. "Cassie, if you can't follow directions," he continued, back to her, "we will be forced to use more physical means to persuade you."

She watched him open a drawer and shivered at the collection of metal instruments inside.

"I would hate to see that happen to you, Cassie. The truth is-I quite like you!"

Anger filled her so strongly that she thought she might explode. Tears started leaking down her cheeks-the only way to let out her emotion. Norman turned and looked at her.

"One more chance, perhaps?" he smiled.

She shook her head adamantly. "Never."

Norman sighed, his eyes filling with insincere pity. He clucked his tongue and pulled a phone from his pocket. Silence hovered in the room for a moment, Cassie tensing and her eyes widening at his suddenly changed expression of excitement.

"Jack? Please prepare Cassie's new room. Yes, tell Samuel to get the equipment ready."

Her heart started beating faster as Norman walked toward her. His fingers worked to loosen the grips at her ankles, and he pulled a syringe off of the counter.

"Okay, Cassie, take a deep breath. Unfortunately, this drug hurts quite a bit."

She clenched her jaw as he inserted the needle into her arm and released it.

"I don't feel anything," she muttered after a moment.

"Hmm," he grunted, narrowing his eyes.

He freed her arms and yanked her to her feet. Cassie stumbled forward and suddenly felt a growing pain in her abdomen where she'd been shot. She doubled over, a deep moan escaped her throat. It was as if for every wound she had, the pain was doubled-tripled.

"Wait! Wait!" she cried, falling into the fetal position.

"Oh dear. Now I'll have to get someone to carry you to your new room. Don't worry though, Cassie. These effects won't last long. Only long enough to get you where we need you."

She was gritting her teeth against the pain, barely able to listen to what Norman was saying.

The door opened moments later, and Cassie felt four hands grip her and lift her from the ground. She would've protested, but she couldn't even move. Norman hadn't lied, however. The drug didn't last long.

As soon as they entered her "new room", the guards dropped her onto the floor. Cassie noticed her pain dissipating, replaced by a cold, desperate, fear. There was a large metal chair bolted to the floor. Electrodes hung off of it, along with wires and what looked like cattle prods. Jack stood next to it, waiting emotionlessly.

A younger male, blond and skinny, came to her side. "It's time to prep you," he murmured.

He held out a gentle hand and pulled her to her feet, leading her to a metal counter on the far side of the room.

"You'll want to change into this."

He pressed a hospital gown into her hands and smiled sheepishly before pulling a curtain around her that was attached to the ceiling. Cassie was filled with a fear stronger than she'd ever known, but she did what this boy asked, stripping off her clothes and kicking them to the side under the curtain. She pulled her arms into the hospital gown and tied it in the back. Staring down at her toes, she realized how long it was, dragging against the floor.

Cassie stepped out and stood nervously in front of Norman, Jack, this new boy, and her two guards. Norman motioned for her to sit in the chair, holding another syringe in his left hand, and she did so without hesitation, afraid of another injection. The younger male approached her again with a tube of ointment in his hands. He began choosing spots along her arms, neck and shoulders, rubbing a green translucent goo along her skin. He also chose to put some against her temples.

A moment later, he was attaching small metal discs, which he pressed deeply into her skin. Cassie felt a tiny needle prick everywhere but her temples.

"What is this?" she finally whispered.

The boy met her eyes and gave a slight shake of his head.

"My own version of the electric chair," Norman answered. "It's leaves you alive, however."

"Why the gown?" she found the courage to ask.

"Well, we can afford to have the gowns smoke. We have plenty of those."

Her heart began beating faster, and the younger man gave her hand a quick squeeze before wrapping a thick strap around her chest, waist, and wrists.

"When you're ready, Samuel," Norman smiled.

He turned a dial against the wall, and Cassie felt a small shock spread throughout her entire body. She let out a small yelp, jolting in the seat and kicking her legs out in front of her.

"Again." Norman said.

This time, Cassie screamed, feeling a spark fly through her veins. Nothing had ever felt like this before-her blood must have been on fire.

"More power, Samuel," Norman nodded.

They shocked her again and again and again until tears ran down her face. She screamed until her throat was raw, the voltage increasing each time.

"One brief shock-full power," Norman ordered.

She could still see him through her blurry vision.

"Don't leave it on long. We're just giving her a taste."

Cassie felt a pain unlike any she had ever known before. Her vision ran red, she could no longer hear anything, and pain coursed through her every cell.

The jolt stopped, and Cassie slumped in the chair, smelling the burning of her skin against the metal. Her gown was singed, and she could feel the hot metal of the chair pressed against her back. It seemed that the whole chair delivered a shock-not just her metal discs.

"Maybe once more-" Norman started.

"NO!" she shrieked, a sob traveling through her. "PLEASE NO! I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

Norman smiled, pleased.

"Very well. Samuel, tend to Cassie, please. She can have two hours before we need her again."

Cassie let her head rest against the metal frame as Jack and Norman turned to leave.

"Wait." Norman turned, and she began to cry with dread. "Let's do the branding...as a reminder to Cassie."

The boy pulled on leather gloves and unstrapped her from the chair.

"Stand," Norman commanded.

She did as he asked, her body trembling with pain and weakness. Her feet gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor.

"Now."

Suddenly, she felt a searing white pain on her back, causing her body to twist and convulse, new screams leaving her lips.

"That's enough, Samuel."

The pain didn't leave when the brand did. She couldn't move, her body still twitching involuntarily.

"Two hours," Norman repeated before exiting the room.

As soon as the two were gone, Samuel knelt by her side.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I went through the same thing."

She couldn't speak, wouldn't speak.

"I can provide you some relief...if you want."

She didn't move or say a word, and he left her side. Cassie hardly had the strength to cry, but tears marked their paths down her cheeks anyway.

"Here." Samuel pressed a small tube against her lips and spoke softly. "Drink it."

She did as he asked, not doubting that it was probably a trick.

"It's the strongest pain medication I have. I could also get you some...some ice if you want."

She limply nodded her head, and he returned a moment later, placing a cold cloth against her charred skin where she'd been branded.

"Unfortunately, they're going to need you again soon, but I can get you to a hospital bed to rest until then if you'd like."

Cassie didn't answer. She'd passed out.


	41. Chapter 41

Janet slammed an entire box of various cameras and audio recorders onto the desk, her eyes blazing. Every single room in her apartment had been wiretapped—every corner. Jack glanced up from his laptop with a blank expression.

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?" he inquired nonchalantly.

"I found these in my apartment last night. And I know that Norman had it done. Who else would?"

"The CIA perhaps?" he shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "The FBI?"

"This isn't a game, Jack!" she snapped. "Norman doesn't trust me anymore. He's made that quite clear."

"Well, can you blame him? Your behavior of late has been…erratic, to say the least."

Janet frowned, studying him with a level of suspicion that she never dreamed would be necessary for her own brother. "Did you know?"

He stared back at her, saying nothing for a long moment. "Of course I knew," he answered finally and without regret.

Her lips parted, his admission stabbing her in the gut. "How could you?"

"How could _I?_ " Jack challenged, rising and pressing his hand to his chest. "Look at you, Janet. You're still the same broken girl who went running to Stephen Strange all those years ago. Nothing's changed."

Her already burning anger reached a boiling point, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

" _You_ betrayed _us._ And now, you want to take the _Darkhold_ and undo all of the grand work that Norman has begun."

Her eyes widened. Her heart started to pound.

"Oh yes," he continued, recognizing her fear, "I heard your little plan. All this time, you were conspiring with Strange and plotting our downfall."

"Yes, I was tempted," she protested, "but if you were really paying attention, you would have seen that I sent him away!"

"Don't lie to me, Janet. I see it in your eyes even now—the conflict, the _weakness._ You don't have what it takes to guide humanity into the future."

"Norman lied to us!" she shot back. "He said that he wanted to bring peace and order. We set out to understand what made people Inhuman, to level the playing field, to learn how to control those abilities so that they were no longer a threat. But Norman's recruiting an army. He's turning us into weapons without consciences! Don't you see?"

"Enough!" he growled. "I'm no fool. I know what must be done. I understand the sacrifices that must be made."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "What is Norman planning?"

"That is no concern of yours." His cold gray eyes flickered dangerously, silence hanging between them. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way, Janet."

Her stomach turned as she realized what was happening. "Jack…please. Don't do this."

"You've left me no choice."

Her hands flew into action, but it was already too late. The air around her suddenly became thin and weightless, and she was flung against the ceiling. Her head snapped back against it, and before she even hit the floor, everything had already gone black.

AAAAAAAAAA

Time passed in a blur. She heard voices. Glimpsed faces. And every few seconds, the darkness would engulf her again. When she finally started to regain full consciousness, Janet winced and blinked several times in an attempt to clear her vision.

She was sitting—that much was clear. She tried to move but couldn't. Something was fastened around her wrists and ankles, holding them in place. And around her neck, there was a cold, heavy collar.

She blinked again and shook her head, straining her sluggish eyes until she was able to discern the ugly gray walls of a large room. The soles of her boots scraped against a concrete floor as she struggled against her restraints. Was she still at Oscorp?

Glancing to her right, Janet saw what seemed to be several large, square windows, but their panes were covered by thin black curtains. Faints traces of sunlight managed to drift through, casting strange shadows, and judging by its angle and intensity, she guessed that it was mid afternoon. How long had she been here? Was it still the same day?

Janet looked to her left and saw the same windows, the same curtains. The room was empty, save her and the steel chair she was bound to. Its dilapidated structure suggested that it was some sort of abandoned warehouse, but she could not be certain.

As her dulled senses slowly came back into focus and the ringing in her ears fell silent, Janet became aware of a quiet beeping sound. It was rhythmic and constant and definitely nearby. She craned her neck as far in every direction as she was able but saw nothing. Frustrated, she glared at the reinforced cuffs binding her and tried to rock the chair. It was bolted to the floor.

Breathing hard, Janet finally gave up and slumped forward. It was then that a strange glint caught her eye. Peering over the left armrest, she suddenly realized that there was something sitting next to her chair. It was a box—rectangular, shiny, and metallic. Colored wires ran in and around it, traveling inside and connecting to a device that she could not see. Paralyzing dread settled inside her gut, her gaze reluctantly shifting to what was on top of the box. And as she had suspected, a small clock sat there—counting down.

Three hours remained.

Janet's heart thundered against her ribcage, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But even as she summoned her powers, she knew that it was in vain. The collar around her neck sent a sharp, warning shock down her spine, and she became still once more.

What had they done? What kind of sick plan was this?

Gritting her teeth as the fire inside her limbs began to die down, Janet's eyes darted wildly around the room. There had to be something she could do. _Something._


	42. Chapter 42

Cassie felt a hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her deep, deep slumber. Buzzing and screams filled the air, and Cassie glanced around with half opened eyes.  
"Shh," a male voice whispered above her.  
"W-who?"  
"It's Samuel."  
"What do you want?" she choked out. The simple sentence caused pain in her throat, which was still raw from her screaming.  
"They're ready to do another test."  
Cassie moaned, deeply and loudly. "I can't."  
Samuel placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, crying out.  
"Don't...don't..."  
"You have to get up. If I don't get you there on time, I'll...I'll..."  
Cassie could hear the fear in the boy's voice. "Samuel, how old are you?"  
"Twenty-three."  
"What are you doing here?"  
He didn't say anything for a long moment. "That's not something we should discuss. Just, please, get up."  
Cassie tried to pull herself up into a sitting position, crying out from the pain. They were in a poorly lit medical room, green lights on the wall.  
"If you want to change, I got your clothes back."  
Cassie looked down at her skin, where the electrodes and discs had been placed. There were circles of burned skin, and she could only imagine what her back looked like.  
"Okay," she whispered.  
Samuel handed the bundle to her and turned, leaving the room. Cassie let the hospital gown fall to the floor and carefully pulled herself back into the shorts and sweatshirt she'd been wearing when she was abducted. Tears leaked down her face as her sweatshirt made contact with her brand.  
Samuel knocked on the door, and she moved forward to open it. Before she could say anything, he reached out and pressed a needle into her arm. Her eyes widened, her jaw set as she stared at him, sadness filling her eyes. She'd had no cause to trust him, but somehow she had, and she'd been betrayed again.  
Everything was already turning blurry, and she fell forward, Samuel catching her. She fought the scream and the bile in her throat as his hand pressed against her new mark.  
"Come on," he whispered in her ear.  
She followed him blindly, everything a sea of sounds and colors swirling together, her feet catching on every little thing. He turned into a room on the left, and Cassie followed after him, aware that neither Jack nor Norman were present. But her previous guard was-the flame. He sneered at her and pointed to the far wall. Her prisoner was there, the one she'd been asked to harm.  
"Do it," he muttered.  
Her legs gave out, and Cassie crumpled to the floor.  
"Oh, I'm sorry... I must've given her too strong a dose. I don't think she'll be able to use her abilities for a while," Samuel explained.  
Cassie saw The Flame pull out a gun and shoot Samuel before she passed into another hazy world of horrors.  
AAAAAAAAAA  
 _Steve pulled her closer, his firm hand on her waist, his lips gently caressing her own._  
 _"Steve," she murmured, unaware of her own nightmare._  
 _"Cassie. Cassie...it's all going to be okay."_  
 _Something in his tone made her look up into his blue eyes. Suddenly, he pushed her back, and she felt cool metal surrounding her. With wide eyes, she watched him approach and strap her into the chair, his eyes sharp and cruel._  
 _"Steve, what you are-?"_  
 _"Hush," he commanded, placing a lingering kiss on her lips._  
 _Then the shocks began again. Her drug-induced vision changed back to her cell. Stephen stood across the room, his back to her._  
 _"Stephen!" she cried in shock, feeling the lingering burns from Steve's shocks. "You have to help me!"_  
 _He turned, eyes wide with excitement, a genuine smile on his face._  
 _"Oh I will," he murmured. "I'll help you realize your true potential at Oscorp."_  
 _Suddenly, he was on top of her, stabbing her with his knife again and again, her screams and squirming barely deterring him. Finally, he was pried off of her by Norman and Jack._  
 _"You see, Cassie," Jack said in a low tone, "they're not coming for you. And if they were, they would only mean you harm."_  
 _"I'm sorry for the harsh methods we've used," Norman interjected. "We only wanted to show you how serious the matter was. We're on your side. And we want to show you how valuable you can be."_

 _His voice faded out, and both of them disappeared._

Cassie felt her grip on reality returning. She was on her hands and knees in the cell, blood dripping from a cut above her eye. There seemed no one in the room, but as Cassie glanced up, she realized that the prisoner was still strapped to his chair. He watched her with wide, fearful eyes.  
She looked back at her own body, becoming aware of new cuts and bruises.  
"Did you see who did this to me?" she called out to him in a scratchy voice, pointing at herself.  
The man shook his head, then hesitated. "You."  
She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What?"  
"You did... Y-you hurt yourself. You...you pulled at your hair and scratched and...clawed. I didn't know what to do. I can't move."  
His words were like a dull ache inside her chest. He was lying. She couldn't have. She was too weak anyway. Norman had said...  
Everything was so confusing.  
"Don't lie to me," she whispered harshly, her eyes meeting his in a fierce glare.  
Cassie curled into a ball on the floor and wished desperately for a deep sleep free from nightmares.  
AAAAAAAAAA  
She woke to a hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that automatically rose in her throat. She stared into a stranger's eyes. He had short brown hair, a nervous gaze, and wore a odd-looking suit.  
"Come with me." His voice was frantic, panicked.  
She felt her heartbeat slowing. Another nightmare. She didn't move, even after he removed his hand. A metallic taste remained on her lips from his fingers.  
"Let's go!" he reiterated.  
With a resigned sigh, Cassie rolled back over onto her side, staring at the floor with dead eyes.

She heard the man sigh and kneel beside her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, drawing back.  
"Cassie, please." His voice had turned soft and pleading.  
"Who are you?" she whispered, shutting her eyes tight.  
"A-a friend of Steve Rogers."  
Cassie sat up, eyes widening. For a brief moment, she considered that this might not be a hallucination. "You've...you've come to...to rescue me?"  
She met his soft brown eyes. "What's your name?"  
"I'm Scott. Please come with me now. We don't have much time. Stephen-"  
"Is he here?" she murmured with a catch in her throat, unexpected fear rising inside her.  
"Yes."  
Cassie felt the fear constricting her throat, but she got her feet underneath her nonetheless. "Okay. Let's go. Get me out of here."  
Scott took her hand, lifting her up, but she quickly pulled away and bit her lip.  
"Let's go," she repeated nervously, nodding her head to indicate that she was fine.  
He gave her a brief, concerned glance before nodding, suddenly running from her cell. The door swung open. The green lights were flickering on the walls like strobe lights. There were several bodies on the floor, twitching unconsciously. Cassie's breath hitched in her throat, a sudden pain in her back reminding her that her captor could be anywhere around here.  
"N-Norman..." she stuttered, grabbing at Scott's arm.  
"Tony's on it. Stark, I mean. I don't know if you've met."  
She didn't say anything, her brow furrowing in confusion. They exchanged no more words, her eyes falling to the floor to stare at the guards Scott must have knocked out to get to her door.  
"There have to be some stairs..." he muttered.  
Cassie brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, wincing at the pain in her abdomen as she raised her arm to do so. Suddenly, an overwhelming nausea filled her, and dizziness overcame her senses. She fell to her knees and placed her hands on the cold concrete.  
"Scott," she called out weakly.  
She didn't see him turn-her vision was tinging black on the sides. A firm hand pressed against her back, and she let out a weak moan as his fingers caused new fire to rain down her spine.  
"I-I don't know how long I can-"  
"Please, Cassie, they'll be here soon, and I can't carry you and defend you."  
Sucking in a shuddery breath, she tried to get back on her feet. As she stumbled forward, Scott slipped a hand under her arm and around her back.  
"Run."  
In blind white pain, she followed him, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. Suddenly, he turned, yanking her to the right, and she gave a sharp cry of pain, falling in beside him.  
He stopped, slamming her against the wall. Tears slipped down her cheeks.  
"Take this," he hissed, slipping a knife into her hand.  
She nodded weakly and then followed after him again, swallowing her bile. Scott yanked open a doorway and started running up stairs. As she heaved for air, she heard him murmur, "Not much further."  
She nodded even though he couldn't see her. Her fingers trembled as she reached for a handrail. Finding none, her foot slipped, and she landed hard on the concrete steps. Scott placed a hand under her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet.  
They pushed on, and Cassie thought the stairs would never end. Finally, he pushed her against a wall on a small landing again and pressed a finger to his lips. Cassie was breathing heavily, her knees shaking.  
A door pounded open, and Scott turned, silently spinning and shoving a blade against the neck of the first person who came through. A guard she didn't recognize widened his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.  
"We're gonna need your key card," Scott whispered.  
The man frantically pulled one from his pocket and let it fall to the floor. Cassie scrambled to grab it. Scott released his blade and pointed at the man.  
"Go. Down the stairs."  
The man backed away slowly until he was out of the blade's range and then started sprinting, screaming for help and alerting others to their presence. Scott grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door. Her eyes squinted against the first natural light she'd seen in days. For a moment, she was worried that she would become permanently blind.  
Scott pulled her along, and Cassie followed, her trust in this man growing.

Finally, they stopped, and he took her gently to the opened her eyes a crack to see him standing directly in front of her. His eyes were wide, and he glanced about nervously.

"We need to hide you, okay?"  
She nodded weakly. He moved to the side an inch, and she could see a broad corridor filled with people. They were running-with guns. Cassie couldn't help but press her head against his shoulder, fighting to keep her pain at bay. Scott slipped his hand around her neck and let her breathe for a brief moment.  
"Come here."  
He pulled away and pointed to her right, where there was a single doorway. They were in a small hallway off to the side.  
"It's a family bathroom. It's the best I can do. Lock the door and keep quiet. Keep the knife. It'll be okay."  
Cassie nodded, her eyes widening. He turned the handle, and she slipped inside. With a last smile, he closed the door on her.  
She observed her quiet hiding place. White tiled floors and walls. Dim yellow light. Posters hung on the walls, discussing scientific topics that meant nothing to Cassie.  
She sunk to the floor after locking the door, pressing her back against the wall. Curling into a tight ball, she cried softly into her hands. The pain was overwhelming. Everything burned. Everything screamed inside her. AAAAAAAAAA Cassie bolted upright, her eyes wide with fear. Something was terribly wrong. The lights had gone out in her tiny bathroom. Everything in her was swirling, a feeling she couldn't understand. She knew it was Stephen-there was no one else.  
There was a tingling in the air, and her heart was beating out of control. He was manipulating time. The first time she'd felt it-Cassie would never be able to explain that feeling. The loop...  
Suddenly, she bolted upright again, her head pounding. "Stop, Stephen!" she cried, feeling the pressure in her chest rise.  
Cassie didn't understand why her memory wasn't being affected by the time loop. She knew what was going on. She was fully aware. The loop was something she felt in her bones.  
And again, bolting upright. Cassie started screaming. The pressure. The pain. The feeling was unnatural, and memories were resurfacing-the stuff from her nightmares.  
Once more before it stopped, and Cassie felt the pressure leave her veins. Her door suddenly crashed to the floor, and she let out a scream, grasping her knife and clambering to her feet, despite the pain from her gunshot wound.  
"Stephen..."


	43. Chapter 43

No one was coming. She had accepted that now. The three remaining hours had shrunk to minutes, the sun steadily sinking until beams of harsh red light were shooting through the curtains at a completely horizontal angle. Again and again, she had tried to use her powers to escape. But every time, the collar threatened to zap her unconscious before she could slip free.

Janet knew that she deserved this. It was an all too fitting end for a monster who had tortured a defenseless young woman just one day prior. And she could only guess at the horrors Norman would have inflicted upon her since then. But one thing was certain in her mind: if Cassie Powell ever left Oscorp, she would not be the same.

Janet hung her head in defeat. It was all her fault. She had told Norman about Cassie. She had assumed—wrongly—that he would take no interest in Stephen's volatile apprentice. But it wasn't just about Cassie. The last few weeks had shown her that she knew far less about everything than she had ever dreamed.

Both she and Stephen had wasted more time than she cared to think about, and now—now it was running out for good. This was it. There would be no more debates with him, no more pointless arguments that they often engaged in simply to annoy each other. She would never hear his voice again—never hold his hand. She would never gaze into his eyes, would never feel his kiss.

And worst of all, she would never tell him that she loved him.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Janet shut her eyes, choking back a sob. It was probably better this way. They were on two very different paths, and she was nothing but an obstacle for him—a setback. Even if she had made it out and they had defeated Norman together, she surely would have spent the rest of her life behind bars. At least this would be quick.

She risked a glance at the timer—one minute.

Her heart lurched inside her chest, then began pounding so hard and fast that she could scarcely breathe. Janet stared blankly ahead, her lips parted and wet tracks carving their way down her face.

She wished that she hadn't sent him away. That she hadn't been afraid. That she had confessed. She realized now how foolish she had been, how selfish. She wondered if things would have turned out differently, if he would have been here to save her.

But all of that was irrelevant now. She only had a few precious moments left, and she wanted to remember his smile, the intelligent gleam of his eyes—not the way he had looked at her just before he walked out that door.

She was shaking, every breath sounding abnormally loud in her ears. It had gotten so quiet, so still. She wondered if—

 _BOOM!_

There was a blinding white flash, flames engulfing her in an instant. And then there was darkness.

AAAAAAAAAA

Janet gasped so sharply that her lungs burned, her eyes flying open and darting wildly about. She was back in the warehouse, fastened to the same chair. The clock was beeping again—ten minutes. Why did she feel like she had already been through this before? Shouldn't the numbers be lower?

Her mind was confused and disoriented, and she blinked as she tried to remember how she had gotten here. Why were her hands and feet so numb? Why did she feel as if the wind had just been knocked out of her?

The door directly in front of her suddenly crashed open, and Janet's head jerked upright. "Stephen?" she exclaimed, relief flooding through her.

His features sagged with unmistakable grief, but when he saw her, they brightened slightly. Without a word, he rushed to her side and then glanced down at the bomb.

"Any ideas about how—?"

"It would really be great if you could get me out of this chair first," she interrupted impatiently.

Cloak swishing, Stephen moved behind her and crouched down. Janet heard him open some sort of panel on the back of the chair, and a few moments later, the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles snapped open. She immediately sprang to her feet, which she quickly realized was a mistake. The room started spinning, and she staggered sideways. Throwing out her arms to balance herself, Janet blinked several times and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to vomit.

As her vision cleared, she saw Stephen standing and facing the bomb. His right hand extended toward it, the golden eye hanging from his neck clinking open. Emerald light radiated from its pupil, several green circles materializing around Stephen's forearm.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, thinking of nothing but escape.

"Saving your life," he responded sharply.

His fingers began to slowly rotate, and Janet's eyes widened in amazement. The clock had stopped counting down, its numbers freezing for half an instant. Then they began to climb—faster and faster. But the rest of the world around them was unaffected, and Janet wondered how this simple amulet could achieve such remarkable things.

The timer stopped at four hours, and Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. The rings around his wrist faded, and he made a simple gesture with both hands that closed the eye. As soon as the green light faded, the numbers started counting down again, and he turned to face her.

"Call the police. They'll permanently disable the bomb before it goes off."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"To fix your mess," he answered flatly.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned, fearing the worst.

Stephen's gaze hardened. "Norman. Your brother. The _Darkhold_. Cassie. Dare I go on?"

So he knew. Janet's heart plummeted, her negative emotions bubbling to the surface. She felt them start to churn and toss wildly about like a raging tempest—anger, guilt, regret. "I'm sorry, Stephen! I never meant to—"

"What's done is done." He half turned and shook his head in disappointment. "I thought you had changed, Janet."

Tears scalded her eyes. "I have! I can— _ah!_ "

Her knees buckled, and she barely stayed on her feet as a painful shock crackled down her spine. Janet's hands flew to the metal collar around her neck, her chest heaving.

"Hold still."

His order was stern, but a trace of compassion had returned to Stephen's voice. He walked behind her, and she did as he asked, trying to remain as motionless as possible while he fiddled with the collar.

"Be careful," she said nervously.

"Shh!" he hissed back in annoyance.

After a moment or two, Stephen huffed a sigh of frustration.

"What?" she inquired anxiously.

"I can't find a way to deactivate it. I'm going to have to try something else," he replied.

"Wait—Stephen—"

"Don't move."

Janet held her breath and shut her eyes. She didn't even want to know.

Suddenly, the uncomfortable pressure around her neck released. A heavy, metallic clank rang in her ears. She gasped and jumped, startled. Her eyes flew open, and she instinctively looked down.

The collar had dropped to the floor and was sitting around her ankles. It looked much the same as it had before—except that it was now the size of a hula hoop. Janet stared at it for a moment, then hesitantly stepped beyond its confines. Nothing happened, and she finally released the breath she had been holding. Turning to face Stephen, she started to thank him.

"You're welcome," he grunted before she could utter a single word.

Her lips clamped shut and curved into a frown. He was already creating a portal.

"Let me help, Stephen," she pleaded, taking an imploring step toward him.

"No," he objected, glancing severely in her direction. "You've done enough."

And then he was gone. The gateway closed behind him in a shimmer of fiery sparks. His words stung her, and Janet hung her head in silence. She wanted to feel betrayed by him, wanted to blame him somehow, but she knew that she deserved his resentment.

The steady beeping of the timer broke into her thoughts, and she automatically reached for her cellphone. But it was not there. Cursing, Janet strode quickly toward the door that would hopefully lead her out of this place. She needed to get to the nearest phone booth.

Entering a dark, musty stairwell, she broke into a run. Her hand glided down the railing, her feet flying. At last, she reached the ground floor and burst through another door.

Met by the intense glare of the setting sun, Janet grimaced and shielded her face with one arm as she made her way forward. People were screaming and running. What was going on? Her eyes shifted to the skyscrapers that towered above her, peering farther and farther into the distance. Finally, she found Oscorp Tower, and her breath caught inside her chest.

A pillar of black, swirling energy rose against a blood red sky. It was coming from the roof.

"No," Janet murmured, aghast.

And in that moment, she made her decision. Forget what Stephen had told her to do. As soon as she made her phone call, she was going to the tower. And she was going to put an end to this once and for all.

By the time she reached her destination, Janet found the lobby empty and silent. And when she took the elevator the floor where her suit and weapons were stored, she found the corridors littered with Norman's unconscious or otherwise incapacitated guards. Was all of this Stephen's doing?

Despite her rapidly growing number of questions, she did not stop to ask them. Instead, she located her gear and pulled it on as quickly as she could manage, then sprinted back to the elevator. It had not even been half an hour since Stephen had left her standing alone in the warehouse, so she could only hope that she was not too late to stop whatever madness the _Darkhold_ had caused Norman to fall into.

As the floor numbers steadily counted up, Janet wondered what had become of Jack. Since she had woken up, she had not even had a moment to consider the drastic actions he had taken against her—his own sister. He had betrayed her, had stabbed her in the back on Norman's behalf. Had he given the order to put her in that warehouse? Had he truly intended to murder her?

 _Ding!_ The elevator doors slid open, and she immediately started running. She saw figures moving at the end of the hall—boarding the elevator that led to the roof.

"Wait!" she called desperately. "Stop!"

A disheveled young woman lunged forward and mashed a button, closing the doors, and Janet temporarily skid to a halt. Was that…was that Cassie?

The memories still rang fresh in her mind, stinging like an open, gaping wound. But there was no time to wallow in her guilt now.

Taking off again, she raced toward the stairs and flung open the door. Then she bounded up them two at a time, her lungs burning. She could hear the roaring of dark, malevolent power drawing near. And voices—there were voices.

Shoving through the door, Janet emerged onto the roof—then stopped dead in her tracks. There stood Stephen, about three meters in front of her, his back turned and his cloak billowing in the wind. Across from both of them were Jack and…and…

Was that—?

"Janet!" a strange and yet eerily familiar voice exclaimed. "I'm so thrilled that you could join us."

Stephen whirled to face her, his eyes wide. Cassie and a man she did not recognize had already stepped off the elevator and were standing a short distance to her left.

"Jack was sure that the bomb would do you in, but I knew better. With the _Darkhold_ in my grasp, I see everything—even the future!"

Janet stared at her mentor in stunned silence. He was no longer a man—he was a monster. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging from his hollow face, his skin having turned a sickly green. His ears had stretched and sharpened at their ends, his nose extending and hooking over a crazed, yellow-toothed grin.

"Norman, what did you do?" she managed finally.

"What I always planned to do," he answered proudly. "The others were just experiments, just numbers to test all the variables. Even Jack. Even you."

All color drained from her face.

"What?" he mocked, a spine-chilling cackle erupting from his throat. "You mean you never found out? It was I who ordered that you be exposed to the terrigen gas. And look where it got you! Now you know that your potential is so far beyond what you ever dreamed. You should be grateful! You should thank me!"

Suddenly, Janet couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Stephen recognized her shock and turned on Osborn.

"Enough! This ends now, Norman! Hand over the _Darkhold_ or suffer the consequences."

"You?" he gloated. " _You_ presume to challenge _me?_ "

Stephen's hands hovered in front of his chest, ready to cast a spell. He glanced in Cassie's direction, and she gave an understanding nod. Norman thrust his right hand skyward, and she shoved the other man out of the way as his hand came down in a fist, a wave of black energy rippling outward. Simultaneously, Stephen raised his arms and swallowed it with a shimmering wall of glass.

The impact of Norman's attack still sent them sprawling, however, and Janet hit the ground hard. Grimacing, she sat up and looked over at Stephen, who met her gaze.

"What is this?" she gasped.

"No time to explain," he answered quickly, climbing to his feet.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the stranger gaping at them with a dumbfounded expression on his face,

"Cassie?" he called, his voice distant and muffled. "Strange?"

It suddenly became apparent that he could no longer see them, and she realized that they were no longer within the bounds of the reality she knew. No—this was something else entirely. But as the energy of this place was forcefully drawn to her like a magnet and charged her powers, Janet knew one thing for certain.

She had never felt more alive.


	44. Chapter 44

Cassie glanced over at Janet with a flicker of pity. She remembered her first time experiencing this. It had terrified her.

Janet was on her hands and knees, panic clouding her features. But there was something else-eagerness?  
All of her pity vanished in an instant as she thought back to the previous day. Janet's cruel actions had erased whatever pleasantries the two of them had previously pretended.  
Unconsciously, she moved toward Strange, and he reached out, squeezing her hand. She gasped uncertainly and widened her eyes, pulling back and turning her attention to Norman. With resolve hardening in her chest, she balled her hands into fists and stared into his yellowed eyes. He, too, seemed confused-dazed even. Jack was staring down at his hands uncertainly, a growing grin on his face.  
Cassie felt the building shifting underneath them, and she let out a scream, taking advantage of everyone's confusion to send a blast of energy straight at Norman. Her anger from her imprisonment, the burns along her skin that caused every motion to send pain throughout her body, the thought of that man going free-  
The power that burst from her hands was stronger than she ever thought she could've conjured. It knocked her backwards into the brick wall at their backs. Stars burst before her eyes, and she caught a hazy glimpse of Norman flying off the roof.  
Stephen was at her side in an instant, but she waved him off, pointing toward Norman and then Jack as he suddenly turned on Janet and grinned.  
"I thought for sure you were finished."  
Stephen got to his feet and was staring over the edge of the roof. Cassie lost sight of Jack, and she struggled to her feet, fighting the bile in her throat. She followed Stephen and saw Norman clinging to a window that had jutted out from the building nearly twenty feet below them. To Cassie, it was still strange to consider how objects were affected in the Mirror Dimension.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shift of the building. As the structure seemed to tilt, impossibly, Cassie watched Norman pull himself up and forward, using his feet to propel himself back onto the roof. He grinned like the madman he was and locked his eyes on her.  
"After all the hospitality I showed you... _this_ is how you repay me?"  
He lunged toward her, and though she scrambled back, trying to summon a blast, he was on her in an instant. Cassie felt a shock fly through her body as his gloves surrounded her neck. His teeth were inches from her face, his breath putrid. The tremors ran through her body, Cassie involuntarily convulsing.  
Norman was suddenly flying over her, head over boots. Strange pulled her to her feet and then floated above her, conjuring red sparks in his fingers. Cassie turned, letting Strange handle Norman, and shifted her attention back to Janet and Jack. Neither had made a serious move, it seemed. They spoke in low tones, making it impossible for her to hear.  
Suddenly, the building bent far to the left, and Cassie's feet slipped out from under her. She tripped, rolling from the roof and falling through thin air. Her hands grasped the side of a tree that was spiraling toward the sky, and she landed on the concrete, staring up at Janet and Jack, who appeared to have jumped onto a nearby roof and were locked in deadly combat.  
Janet seemed stronger than Cassie had ever realized, her hair flying wildly about her face as she fended off Jack's every attack.

Something rolled toward her and hit the edge of her bare foot. Suddenly, Cassie was encased in flames, her screams rising from her throat in inhuman screeching. They licked her body, and she dropped to he ground, rolling to the side. The heat was intolerable, but as Cassie continued rolling, she felt it diminish.  
She couldn't hear anything but the ringing in her ears or see anything but the red spots in her field of vision. Her wounds had reopened, the smell of burning skin returning to her nose. Cassie took three long, deep breaths that caused coughing fits before climbing to her feet. The flames from the bomb had died, but smoke still curled from the street.  
Cassie stared about uncertainly. She could see neither Stephen and Norman, nor Janet and Jack.  
With as much strength as she could muster, she started running, her bare feet pounding through the streets. She was gazing up at the tops of the buildings, but they no longer seemed to be the same skyscrapers they had once been. The streets were obviously twisted, glass spires pointing toward each other instead of the sky.  
Cassie gripped a window ledge above her and pulled herself through the open window. It was as if by dragging herself through, gravity reversed itself. Her feet were on solid ground, and everything was right side up.  
She raced to the nearest stairwell and began climbing, ignoring the bile in her throat and the prickling of her skin, ignoring the way her abdomen threatened to crumple her with pain or the way her brand mark burned her still.  
Cassie continued up and up until she was heaving. She collapsed in front of a door and wiped the collecting sweat from her brow. Everything was pain.  
She threw open the door, sunlight hitting her face. With a deep breath, Cassie pulled herself up and started running. She reached the edge of the roof and glanced around frantically.  
"Stephen?"  
A sudden cry answered her, and she gasped, turning and running. The gap between the buildings was large, but Cassie knew in this dimension, things were different. She continued running and jumped, her fingers grasping at the edges of another building as she slammed hard against the glass.  
With a grimace, she pulled herself up over the edge and kept going, growing closer to Stephen and Norman. She paused, climbing up one more building, and felt her fingers slipping. Sweat pooled under her prints, and in with a tight scream, Cassie started falling.  
Surprisingly, she never hit the ground. Cassie collapsed against a board that was hovering in the air. With a groan, she rolled over, cradling a bruised eye with her hand and then screaming as Norman's face moved inches above her own, a goblin-like grin spreading over his features.  
"Ready to die?"


	45. Chapter 45

Jack's harsh words stung her, and Janet swallowed hard. But she refused to give up on him so easily.

"Norman's only using us for our powers," she insisted, taking a step toward him. "He doesn't care about us. He never did."

Her brother's gray gaze shifted from her to the _Darkhold_ , which sat on a pedestal just a couple of meters to his left. The pillar of dark, swirling energy rising from it had dissipated when Norman tumbled from the roof.

"We're no better than S.H.I.E.L.D.," Janet added in a moment of realization. "We're just like Mace and his Inhuman weapons."

Jack's eyes snapped back to hers. "I am no one's slave."

He suddenly threw out his arms and then thrust them downward. The ground beneath her shifted, the entire roof pitching forward and sending her sliding. There was nothing to grab hold of, nothing to stop her momentum, and soon found herself falling through open air. Instinctively, Janet steadied her flailing arms and tapped into her frustrations—her sense of betrayal.

Whatever dark force it was that she called upon bowed to the will of her imagination, lifting her up on shadow wings, and as she scanned the chaos unfolding below her, she saw Jack alight on top of a nearby building—the _Darkhold_ tucked under his arm.

"No," she breathed, diving toward him.

Black energy billowed behind her like a cloak, one arm outstretched as her fingers strained toward the ancient tome. He spun to face her, an invisible weight dragging her down with much greater speed than she was prepared for. Janet clenched her teeth, fighting to resist his gravitational pull. She was hurtling straight toward him.

At the last possible moment, she shut her eyes and then vanished. For one brief instant, she became one with the darkness. But before she took her next breath, Janet materialized behind Jack and hit the roof of the building. Landing with her legs spread wide to maintain her balance, she skidded several meters before finally coming to a stop.

"So it's going to end _this_ way, is it?" she heard him call.

Breathing hard, Janet straightened and turned toward him. "You're not taking that book anywhere."

Jack's mouth curved into a condescending smirk. "We'll see about that."

Hearing the breaking of glass all around her, she looked and saw large panes being torn from the sides of surrounding structures. In midair, they were broken down and refined into dangerous shards that shot toward her. Janet threw both hands skyward, a violet energy shield forming a dome over her just in time. When his projectiles collided with her defenses, they harmlessly disintegrated.

Allowing the barrier to fade, she summoned a hissing whip in her left hand and let it fly. He cast it aside with a wave of his hand, but she was already tearing a metal rod from the ground and hurling it at his head. Jack whirled to deflect it, and while his back was turned, Janet flung her whip again. It caught around his throat.

Yanking him to the ground, she heard his chin collide with concrete. The _Darkhold_ fell from his grasp. But even as the sickening crack echoed through the thin air and he cried out in pain, she did not relent. Janet dragged him toward her, his fingers clawing at the icy grip around his neck.

Suddenly, Jack's wide gaze flashed to hers. The ground beneath her caved in, and she plunged into darkness. Her concentration shattered, the whip vanishing in a shimmer of purple sparks. Her head hit the next floor down, a blinding white light bursting before her eyes. Groaning, Janet struggled to move. Her limbs had become strangely heavy and unresponsive.

She gritted her teeth, slowly managing to shove herself up into a sitting position. Everything was blurry and spinning, and she felt like she was going to be sick. But there was no time to waste. She had to get back to—she shook her head in confusion—back to where she had been.

Dazed, Janet looked up and saw a large hole in the ceiling. Then she remembered. Scrambling clumsily to her feet, she took several deep breaths and tried to reorient herself. Once she felt like she had regained enough balance, she ran straight at the wall and up its vertical surface. When she neared the top, Janet stopped, gathered herself, and sprang backwards.

She managed to grab on to the thick concrete rim, her body hanging limp as she summoned the strength to pull herself up. Clenching her teeth, she hauled herself through the gap with a stubborn groan. At last, Janet emerged onto the roof once more, breathing heavily as she remained on her hands and knees.

Jack was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the _Darkhold_. She slammed her fist against the concrete, hardly feeling the pain.

Then she heard a startled cry. Glancing up, Janet saw Oscorp's prototype glider streak by her. Norman was perched atop it, one of his gloved hands clamped around Cassie's throat and dangling her over the board's sharp green edge.

"Stop!" a familiar voice demanded furiously. "Norman, stop! Put her down now!"

She looked over and spotted Stephen standing on the corner of an adjacent building. When Osborn didn't immediately acquiesce to his request, the sorcerer summoned a flaming whip and cast it forward the moment the glider came within range. The crackling tongues snaked around Norman's torso, tearing him from the board. His hold on Cassie released, and the glider spiraled out of control.

The young woman's scream rang shrilly in Janet's ears as she instinctively thrust both hands toward Strange's falling apprentice. Cassie's momentum came to a nearly instantaneous halt, and Janet carefully drew her arms back toward her chest. Cassie's movement mirrored those of her hands, drifting steadily closer to the roof.

"No! Let go of me!" the girl cried, fighting against her telekinetic grip.

But Janet only increased her concentration, trying to keep Cassie still. Finally, the young woman was hovering over solid ground, and Janet lowered her onto it. Letting go, she breathed a sigh of relief, and Cassie stared up at her with wide eyes.

Remembering Stephen, Janet turned and saw him fending off an enraged Norman. But wait—there was someone else too. It was Jack, and he was drawing his pistol.

"Stephen!" she shrieked, racing toward the roof's edge.

Her frantic cry echoed across the void and reached him just in time. He spun sharply on his heel as the gun fired, summoning a glowing disk that he raised to defend himself. But when the bullet lodged in its center, it suddenly detonated. The impact sent Stephen flying backwards, and he hit the ground hard.

Jack's finger moved toward the trigger again, but this time, Janet dropped down in front of him. So great was her anger that she was trembling, blood pounding against her temples.

"You will not touch him," she declared in a voice that was not her own.

Jack's face paled, his eyes becoming round as his weapon was suddenly reduced to subatomic particles—vanishing from his hand in an instant. Janet's chest was heaving, her teeth bared. Never had she done anything like that before, but her rage was so feral that she could not be bothered to care.

"Janet!"

She turned at the sound of Stephen's voice, and what she saw terrified her. It was as if the air itself was being ripped apart like a piece of fabric. Gaping wounds provided glimpses into a dark world—a dimension beyond even this one. The openings were growing larger and more numerous, and each one had its own force that threatened to swallow them like a black hole.

"Janet, stop!"

"I-I can't!" she answered helplessly.

Three of the tears combined and formed a single, large rift. She gasped as she was suddenly dragged backwards, everyone else being brought along with her. But Jack remained where he was, his feet rooted to the ground and his body unmovable as he increased his own center of gravity to resist the pull of her portals.

Norman was fighting it, but he wouldn't last much longer. He was too close to the yawning mouth of the void.

Janet made a desperate attempt to take a step forward, but the effort caused her to lose her balance. The rift jerked her foot out from under her, and she stumbled. Landing facedown on the concrete, she cried out in pain and fear, her fingers raking the rough surface.

"Janet, take my hand!"

She raised her head, her black hair billowing wildly around her face. Stephen was there, propped up on one elbow, desperately reaching for her. He was so close. Maybe, just maybe…

She made a frantic lunge toward him. The tips of their fingers grazed each other—then came apart. Janet lost her grip and slid a meter closer to the portal. Stephen was barely holding on, his boots scraping against the concrete. His cloak was sticking out straight behind him, trying to pull him back from the brink.

But he would not let it.

Janet understood in that moment that it was too late. If he tried to save her, he would be lost too. And she could not allow that to happen. The world needed him—the universe needed him—far more than it needed her.

She saw the change in his expression as he realized what she was about to do. The terror in his eyes. The anguish.

"Janet, no—"

Summoning all her remaining strength, she let go and pushed out both arms. A tremendous kinetic force struck Stephen and propelled him backwards through the air. Simultaneously, she was ripped from the ground and sucked through the gaping tear in space-time. Darkness devoured her, the gateway closing behind her. And then there was nothing but silence.

Just silence.


	46. Chapter 46

_Can't believe this is the last chapter of this story! It's been quite the ride! Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with us! Stick around if you want to find out what happens in the sequel;) Invictus is coming soon!_

 _\- Madison_

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie looked around her in awe. Stephen was on his hands and knees, staring at the spot where Janet had been, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. She couldn't say anything.

Her eyes flicked toward Jack. He was grinning, his eyes alight with something sinister. He had the _Darkhold_. Cassie let out a hitched scream and thrust a powerful blast of energy at him, but he merely smirked and vanished into a portal of his own. Her vapors dissipated. She felt all her strength leave her body, and she collapsed onto the roof in a curled heap.

"Stephen," she called out weakly.

He was at her side in an instant, and she saw two unmistakable tears on the edge of his nose. He pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly, as though she might disappear. His face was buried in her hair, and Cassie realized that it was not only for her. She shook in his arms, terrifying monsters filling her mind as she remembered the visions she'd had in that sickly green cell.

"I'm here," he whispered in her ear. "I'm here. It's over. You're safe. It's over."

"Stephen?" she choked out. "I-I..."

He pulled back and gazed at her, sadness filling his features as he truly looked her over. "Come on."

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Unconsciously, she moved away, afraid to meet his eyes.

"It's going to be okay now," he said to her soothingly.

She nodded weakly, suddenly feeling overwhelming exhaustion take over. Cassie's knees buckled, and she began to totter forward, but then she felt something strong and soft surround her. Strange's cloak wrapped her up and helped support her as she walked forward slowly. She didn't watch Stephen pull them from the dimension. She walked forward numbly, as though sleepwalking.

Eventually, she felt a hand cup her face, and she gazed up into Stephens eyes.

"Cassie, I need you right now, okay? I need you to summon your strength and hold on a little while longer."

She nodded weakly and tried to focus her attention. They were standing in the midst of chaos. Stephen took her hand and led her from the roof. Her eyes darted back and forth uncertainly. Dead Oscorp members littered the floor, and Cassie's throat constricted when she realized that she recognized a few. She didn't pity them.

Strange pulled her forward, and she didn't yank her hand back. She needed his strength. Sirens were blaring, and Cassie wasn't sure how many more flights she could descend when Stephen pulled her sharply to the left.

"Can't we just...portal?" she asked between breaths.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and she realized that he was pulling her toward the lobby.

"Stephen-" She started to cough and drew back, falling to her knees.

As soon as she hit the ground, however, the cloak pulled her back onto her feet, supporting her.

"You can do this," Strange smiled encouragingly at her. "We can't summon a portal yet. We have people to help."

She stumbled forward, everything burning.

"Cassie, I need your help. Focus."

She blinked several times and then nodded.

"There are people trapped on the third floor. Norman-who knows what Norman did before he came to the roof. Can you help them?"

Cassie steeled her nerves for a brief second and focused on Stephen. Wind from the open doorways whipped his hair about his face, and his features were hard.

"Yes."

"I'll help," a familiar voice spoke behind her.

Cassie spun around and saw Tony standing there, fully clad in his Iron Man suit. She balked, backing away slowly until Strange placed a hand against her back.

"It's okay. He's here to help."

His voice was reassuring, and she watched as Tony's mask clanged open.

"Hey. Let's do this."

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie collapsed onto the concrete outside the building, her chest heaving. Tony came to rest beside her, his metal feet clanging on the hard surface.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," she choked out, her arms shaking as she tried to push herself up.

"Who's out?" she heard him ask, knowing that it wasn't directed at her but at his earpiece.

She and Tony had evacuated the floor of workers.

"Ah, okay. Who's got eyes on Peter? Perfect. Thanks, Rhodey."

He slipped a hand under her arm and lifted her to her feet. The cloak was gone, having returned to Strange.

"Come on, we're done."

He gathered her up in his metal arms, and she didn't protest. Soon, he had rocketed them from the ground. She could hear him speaking, and it caused a soft vibration against her.

"I've got Cassie, yeah. No, not so well. Okay, sounds good."

He set down moments later in a grassy field. Gently, he placed her against the grass, and she closed her eyes, moaning slightly. Her head was pounding, red still tinged her vision, and everything burned. Every touch caused spirals of pain over her skin, and she was having difficulty breathing.

"Cassie?"

She rolled over and tried to sit up, fighting bile in her throat.

"Cass?"

She opened her eyes and saw Steve kneeling in front of her. His short blond hair was mussed, and he had dried blood on his temple. Gently, he brushed the hair back from her face, and she watched him cautiously, unmoving.

"Do you feel okay?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then she heard a commotion to her left. Turning her head, she watched Peter swing into view. He landed on all fours and then quickly stood, pulling off his mask.

"Mr. Stark, I-"

She watched Tony approach him and clap him on the shoulder.

"You did good, kid."

Peter's eyes drifted over to her, and he paled, his eyes widening. Stark caught his gaze and swallowed heavily, whispering in a tone so low she couldn't hear him.

"Janet... The _Darkhold_..." she mumbled weakly. "Jack...he... Norman..."

Steve reached out and grasped her hand. "Shh, it's okay. Don't worry. We're just going to get you to safety right now."

She would have fallen face forward into the grass if Steve had not caught her in his arms.

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie awoke some time later to a jolting sensation. She moaned weakly and raised a hand to her head, immediately regretting the short motion.

"I think she's awake," she heard a voice say on her right.

Her eyes flickered open to see Stephen at her side, with a man she didn't recognize sitting nearby.

"Stephen, where-?"

He placed a gentle hand on her forehead, his eyes filled with sadness. "We're on a jet, Cassie. I didn't think portal travel would be...beneficial for you in your current state."

"Where are we going?" she whispered softly.

"To the sanctum. I've invited the Avengers to convene with us there."

She nodded and closed her eyes, and pain pulled through her temples. She whimpered unintentionally and felt tears tracking down her cheeks. The other man stood and came nearer.

"Stephen, it hurts so bad..."

"I know. It'll be okay. Barton, please pass me those gloves."

Cassie heard the crackle of Strange's magic, and then suddenly, she was screaming, the pain causing her to writhe on the table. Her vision turned black, and she slipped into a world of unknown.

AAAAAAAAAA

Cassie didn't wake again for what felt like ages. When she finally did, it was voices that roused her.

"The burns on her body, Steve-it was horrible. Clint told me that she wouldn't stop...screaming."

It was a woman's voice. Cassie wracked her brain for a moment-Natasha. There was no reply for a moment, but then she heard Steve's voice.

"Wanda said that what they did to her psychologically was terrible, and that she might never be the same."

Cassie let her eyes flicker open. Natasha and Steve stood near where she was lying. Steve stared down at his feet, his jaw clenched.

"She'll be okay, Steve," Natasha reassured him, placing her hand on his arm.

He nodded slowly.

"Steve?" Cassie called out softly.

Their eyes both flickered over to her. Natasha smiled at Steve and then quietly left the room, casting a lingering glance at Cassie. Steve moved forward slowly and knelt beside her bed, taking her hand.

"Hey, Cass."

She smiled despite herself as she stared into his blue eyes. "Hi, Steve."

He ran his fingers gently through her hair, and she blushed.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Cassie?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in a bedroom in the sanctum."

She pulled her eyes from Steve and let them rove around the room. She hadn't recognized it.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, letting her gaze fall back on him.

His jaw tensed, and he hesitated.

"Steve?"

"Strange-he's searching for Jack. We haven't seen him in three days. And...and for Janet."

Her throat tightened.

"He's not here?" she whispered softly.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cass. He came to see you many times before he went. He left you a phone message, okay? And he's coming back."

Her mind was fuzzy. Something seemed off. "How long have I been out?"

"About five days."

She tried to sit, surprise filling her, but she moaned and fell back against the pillows.

"It's okay. Wanda put you to sleep because it was clear that you were in pain. You needed it."

He leaned forward and kissed her temple, and her eyes widened.

"Steve...I had visions. I had visions down there."

Her throat tightened, and she looked away, staring at the far wall with a tight throat.

"If you want to talk about-"

"It was you. And Stephen. A-and-" She started to cry and pulled herself from the bed, turning her back to him.

Everything suddenly seemed to weigh down on her, and she couldn't stop. She was sobbing, her entire body wracked with them. Cassie covered her face with her hands and let everything she'd experienced flow through her.

Steve gently placed his hand on her back and turned her so that she faced him. Then, without a word, he wrapped her in his embrace.

"Steve...they tried to make me kill a guy. Th-they..they burned me. The chair-the needles-they branded me."

She couldn't stop now, hot tears soaking his t-shirt.

Finally, her sobs subsided into choked breathing. Steve didn't let go. He held her firmly, one hand around her waist and another buried in her hair.

"Steve?" she finally whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen? Jack has the _Darkhold_ , and-"

He pulled back and tilted her chin up toward his. Suddenly, his lips were pressed to hers, and she was wrapping her arms around his neck and entwining her fingers in his blond hair.

The door to Cassie's room banged open, and Steve drew back slightly, leaving his hand on her back and her head still pressed against his shoulder, eyes peering at the door. The man who stood there was only vaguely familiar to her, but he smirked at the two of them knowingly.

"Rogers, we all wanted to talk. And now that you're up, Cassie, feel free to join us. That is, if you two are done sucking on each other's faces."

Cassie blushed, and Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Thanks, Clint. Um...just give us a minute."

He laughed lightly, shook his head, and closed the door. Steve held her firmly, and she gazed up into his eyes. She leaned up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He smiled at her and took her hand in his.

"Come on."

AAAAAAAAAA

She looked around the room uncomfortably. There were so many people, and they all seemed to be staring at her. She stood near the edge of the room, Steve's arm around her waist and helping her stand. She felt incredibly weak, and also raw.

Before they had left, Cassie had excused herself into the bathroom. The shock had been overwhelming. Her skin was a bright red and inflamed. She had welts covering her body, and when she turned, the brand was ever prominent.

And this was after Strange had already eased some of her wounds. Her abdomen still caused deep pain, the bullet wound not promising to let up anytime soon.

Now, she stood and smiled at the people who had helped rescue her from her own private hell. What amazed her was Tony's and Steve's ability to be in the same room together. All of them. Sam, Rhodes, Peter, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision.

She wondered what must have happened during the five days she was out.

"So, Cassie, we need everything you can tell us about Norman, Jack, the _Darkhold_ , and Oscorp," Tony said, his eyes fixed on hers.

She took a seat, inhaled a deep breath, and started talking.


End file.
